


you be my prince and i'll be yours (we can dance until we drop)

by de_la_rae



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ballet, Alternate Universe - High School, Ballet, Best Friends, Insecurity, Light Angst, M/M, Pining, References to The Nutcracker, Swearing, an absurd amount of ballet vocabulary is included, at least I think it's light, don't worry i'll explain all of it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-13 18:47:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 35,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29283249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/de_la_rae/pseuds/de_la_rae
Summary: "Jaemin watches as Jeno dances across the floor, toes pointed and arms extended, and tries to put a name to what it is that makes watching him so mesmerizing.He doesn’t know if he can properly explain it, Jeno’s dancing. It’s strong, it comes from firm foundations of technique and years of building muscle from repeating the same movements over and over again. It’s fluid the way a dancer should be, the way Jeno moves his body from one shape to the next without a break or a pause in his movement.But underneath the solid technique and fluidity of movement, Jaemin sees a glimmer of that determination Jeno had when he first started taking classes here. It’s more muted now, covered up by a stronger feeling, urgency.Jeno dances like he needs to, like he needs to dance the way he needs to breathe.Sometimes, Jaemin finds it hard to look away."Or: Jeno is the perfect Nutcracker Prince, and Jaemin wonders how he never realized that before.
Relationships: Lee Jeno/Na Jaemin
Comments: 33
Kudos: 36





	1. auditions and the importance of friendship

**Author's Note:**

> hi hello welcome to another fic by me!
> 
> i usually write skz, but nct have been taking over my life and i think it would be a shame not to write smth for them, so here's my first nct fic!
> 
> i started writing this in november last year because i was missing nutcracker and online ballet zoom classes are absolutely killing me. most of the dancers' experiences are based off my experiences as a ballet dancer in an extremely small ballet school, so it may not be your experience or what you expect. since this is a ballet fic, there will be ballet terms that i'll define and attempt to describe at the end of each chapter. 
> 
> i'm actually so excited to put out a ballet fic, which you can tell from the working title of this fic "finally writing a ballet fic because finally." i hope you all enjoy!

Auditions are nerve-wracking.

Jaemin doesn’t necessarily agree, but there is a certain shortness of breath whenever he walks into an audition. So maybe he does get nervous, but he doesn’t think it should be that way. Nerves are for math tests and in-class essays, not for the arts. The lump in his throat and the pressure in his ribcage restrict his movement, prevent that energy from flowing to his toes and fingertips. Dance is supposed to be an art that decorates time and space, and he can’t do that when pre-audition nerves start boxing him in.

Usually, he’s able to tell himself there’s nothing to worry about. When it comes to dance, he can convince himself that he’s going to do fine. All it takes is a deep breath in and reminding himself that he hasn’t trained for years to be mediocre. Jaemin’s friends, on the other hand, haven’t gotten the hang of manipulating their inner monologue, so he takes it upon himself to comfort them.

“Ready for auditions?” Jaemin asks, peeking around Renjun’s shoulder with a knowing grin. Renjun yells in surprise, and Jaemin ducks into a squat to avoid Renjun’s arms swatting at him. “Aye, don’t hit me!” Jaemin squawks. “That was an honest question and pertains to the situation at hand! You told me I only wasn’t allowed to ask you stupid questions like what time it is when we’re in a room with no clocks!”

Renjun doesn’t let up his attacks until he lands a hit on Jaemin’s shoulder, then sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. Jaemin is on the receiving end of that pose a lot, but so are a few of his other friends. Renjun just likes pretending that he’s constantly exasperated by the people he surrounds himself with. “Jaemin, you can’t talk about auditions right now, you’ll jinx all of us,” he says, his tone level and serious. 

“Oh, come on,” Jaemin whines, “Moonbyul’s never cut anyone who auditioned in the history of ever.”

Felix lifts his head up from the floor and shimmies his legs out of a middle split. “You never know, Jaemin, there’s a first time for everything,” he says good-naturedly, but there’s a hint of an evil glint in his eyes. Renjun groans and throws himself against the wall in despair, and Felix cackles.

“Besides, Moonbyul’s not the only one casting this year,” Jeno chimes in from his spot on the floor. He tosses a spiky roller to the side and scoots closer to Jaemin and Felix. When Jeno stretches his legs out in front of him, Jaemin sticks out his foot and kicks Jeno’s ankle lightly. Jeno glares at him, but it’s about as threatening as a toasted marshmellow. Jaemin grins as he keeps tapping, and Jeno rolls his eyes and continues. “She’s letting that one company member be in charge of the show and the casting this year, and we don’t know if he’ll cut anybody.”

This comment sparks a new wave of groaning from Renjun, who’s sulked his way into becoming a puddle on the floor. “Wrong thing to say, man,” Felix stage-whispers to Jeno, and Jaemin snorts.

“Are you guys stressing out?” Yangyang pads over, the straw of his waterbottle in his mouth. A faint gurgle of “yes” comes from the puddle known as Renjun. Yangyang laughs, nearly choking on a sip of water, then sits down in a butterfly pose near Felix. “I wouldn’t worry about it, Ten’s pretty chill. He’s probably less likely to cut someone than Moonbyul.”

Jaemin’s eyebrows furrow. “Where did this intel come from? Are you a government spy?” he asks, leaning over with one eyebrow comically raised.

Yangyang makes a face like he’s just eaten a lemon. “I do _not_ want to be associated with the government at all, thank you very much,” he says. “Nah, he just saw me practicing some contemporary tricks like walkovers and stuff and gave me a few tips.”

“Whoa, that’s cool, though,” Felix says, awestruck. He leans back on his hands. “I can’t believe we’re lucky enough to dance in the same space as professionals, like, just as students. That’s the only reason stuff like that happens.”

“Yeah, but just you wait for rehearsals to start,” Donghyuck cuts in – Jaemin’s not sure where he came from, but he’s inserted himself into the conversation in regular Donghyuck fashion – and he plops down next to Jeno. “I bet all the guest choreographers from the company will be just as strict as Moonbyul when we’re too tired for _petit allegro_.”

Jaemin shudders, remembering yesterday’s class. They probably repeated that combination six times, and he can’t even do the math to calculate how many jumps they did. “Let’s just hope they’re not that strict,” he sighs, “for all our sakes.” The others nod their heads in solemn agreement.

The large studio doors click and creak as they open. Jeno turns around at the noise, jostling Donghyuck’s head resting on his shoulder. Donghyuck whines and Jeno rolls his eyes, but reaches out his hand to pull Donghyuck off the floor anyway. That reminds Jaemin about the puddle of Renjun near the wall, and he pushes himself off the floor to drag his friend to a standing position. He squats down to loop Renjun’s arm around his shoulders and pulls him to his feet.

As the advanced level girls file out of the studio, Jaemin scans the hallway for the remaining dancers in the advanced level boys’ group. He spots Hyunjin and Shotaro filling up their water bottles at the water fountain, and cups one hand around his mouth. “Heyo, Shotaro, Hyunjin!”

“Coming!” Shotaro calls over his shoulder. He screws on his water bottle cap and grabs Hyunjin’s arm to pull him away from the fountain. Hyunjin lets out a small yelp, and some of his water sloshes out of the bottle and onto the floor. He snaps his gaze up to Jaemin, panic in his eyes.

Jaemin just sighs. It’s not the first time that’s happened. “I’ll help you clean it up after the audition,” he promises, and Hyunjin sighs in relief. 

“Thanks,” he says as they file into the studio. Jaemin waves his hand in a ‘no-problem’ gesture, then peels Renjun off of him and shoves him toward the middle of the studio where the others are warming up. He sees Felix stretching at the bar and Yangyang attempting to do a weird backbend trick. Hyunjin scampers off to practice yesterday’s _petit allegro_ while Shotaro has claimed a space to practice _tours_. Jaemin squints in surprise when he sees Renjun wandering over to do something that looks suspiciously like helping Donghyuck spot on his turns. That’s one positive product of audition-fried nerves; Renjun and Donghyuck are too anxious to bicker with each other. 

A shadow appears in his periphery, and he barely jumps out of the way in time before Jeno lands a Bournonville _jet_ _é_ right in front of him. Jaemin widens his eyes at Jeno and tilts his head in that sarcastically questioning sort of way. “You could’ve killed me, Jeno,” he says, one hand over his heart as he sets his stuff down on the side of the studio.

Jeno shoots him an apologetic smile and opens his mouth to say something when the studio door creaks open again.

Everyone whips to attention, or at least, attention for ballet dancers, so they all scramble to fifth position. The man in the doorway, the company member Ten, laughs at the sight of the eight boys standing stick straight at his entrance, and waves his hand. “You guys can relax, I’m not trying to make this stressful,” he says, and toes off his shoes at the doorway and pads over to the speakers. Jaemin looks around at the others, then attempts to drag everyone into a semblance of a line. Ten may not want them stressed, but the least they can do is be organized.

After Jaemin shoves Shotaro in between Renjun and Donghyuck – Renjun’s fingernails found themselves implanted in Donghyuck’s arm, from the nerves, of course – Jeno sidles up next to him in line. Their shoulders bump, Jaemin’s not sure who bumped who, but he looks over at Jeno anyway.

“You don’t think he’ll go easy on us?” Jeno asks, voice barely a whisper. Jaemin has to lean in to hear him.

“As if you’ll need it,” Jaemin says, a grin threatening to spread over his face. Jeno makes a ‘tch’ sound and rolls his eyes, as if he can’t believe his best friend has faith in him. Jaemin elbows him in the side. “Trust me. You got this. _We,_ ” he gestures with his head to the rest of the boys, “got this. Got it?”

Jeno takes one look at Jaemin’s raised eyebrow and nods firmly. “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he says way too quickly to be convincing. Jaemin sighs and drops his gaze to the floor. He supposes there’s only so much he can do to quell his friends’ nerves. There’s an elbow to his side this time, and he looks up with narrowed eyes at Jeno. “Thanks,” is all Jeno says, but when a beat passes he says, “You’re gonna do good too.”

Jaemin scoffs and shakes his head. “Don’t say that,” he complains, his voice coming close to a whine.

“Okay, fine, then,” Jeno complies, “ _we_ got this. Better?”

Jaemin purses his lips and nods. The curling tightness in his throat starts dwindling away.

An ear-splitting screech echoes throughout the studio when Ten connects his phone to the speakers, and both Felix and Hyunjin shriek. Jaemin pats Hyunjin, who’s standing on Jaemin’s other side, on the back. Ten turns around from the speakers with a grin on his face. “Okay, who’s ready to have some fun?”

~

Later that night, Jaemin reaches for his phone and finds it flooded with texts from the advanced boys’ groupchat. He flops onto his bed and opens them.

_best dancing bois_

**_fullsun:_ ** _wasn’t that audition weird_

 **_freckles:_ ** _yeah, it was_

 **_injun:_ ** _yep_

 **_sheepsheep:_ ** _not once have i ever danced ballet to taki taki_

 **_dramallama:_ ** _u said u had fun tho_

 **_sheepsheep:_ ** _i mean i never said i was complaining_

 **_otterboi:_ ** _i’m suuuper excited for the show, if the audition says anything about it_

 **_jeno :):_ ** _saaaammmeeee_

_ikrrrrr i can’t wait for cast list to go up **: nana**_

**_fullsun:_ ** _uggghhhhh one week of waitinggggggg_

Jaemin smirks at Donghyuck’s text; he can practically hear his voice when he reads it. Then, his phone buzzes in his hand. It’s a text from Jeno, but it’s not in the groupchat.

 **_jeno :):_ ** _you did really good today_

 **_jeno :):_ ** _at the audition_

A little warm prickle pokes at his ribcage as he reads over the messages. It doesn’t stop the black curl from snaking up his throat, but he tries to swallow that down and focus on the positive: Jeno giving him a compliment about the audition. He reads them over once, twice, three times, just to make sure they’re there, then types out a reply.

_tyyyy, you did great too!! **: nana** _

**_jeno :):_ ** _thank uu_

_i saw that quad fouett_ _e, very niceee **: nana**_

**_jeno :):_ ** _you saw that?_

_yep course i did **: nana**_

**_jeno :):_ ** _oh of course u did, u pay attention to everyone_

Jaemin frowns at his phone. Over text, it’s hard to tell whether that’s a compliment or an insult. It only took that one time someone called him out for being a ‘helicopter friend’ for Jaemin to feel insecure about caring for his friends the way he does. And it’s a stupid thing to feel insecure about, he knows this, but he’s told Jeno about it. He knows Jeno would never prey on his insecurity like that, but a tiny bit of doubt latches onto him and eats away at the warm feeling from earlier. His phone buzzes again: Jeno. 

**_jeno :):_ ** _that’s a compliment btw_

_oh good, u had me worried for a sec there **: nana**_

**_jeno :):_ ** _nuuuu i’m sorry i made u worry_

_aww it’s ok don’t be sorry **: nana**_

**_jeno :):_ ** _but u thought i wasn’t giving u a compliment :(_

 **_jeno :):_ ** _and i always want to compliment u_

The warm prickly feeling taps more insistently at his ribcage when Jaemin reads Jeno’s last message. The black curl gets tamped down, and he can’t help the smile stretching across his face as he types a reply.

_well then consider me perpetually flattered **: nana**_

**_jeno :):_ ** _that’s what i like to hear :)_

Jaemin doesn’t usually like to let others have the last word, it means he’ll be the one playing catch-up in the next conversation, and he likes to be one step ahead with a witty comeback or two prepared in case of emergency. This time though, Jaemin’s content to let Jeno have the last word. It’s not like he knows what to say to that, anyway.

He falls asleep with that warm prickly feeling thrumming against his ribcage.

~

Jaemin’s always found it miraculous, or just a really big stroke of dumb luck that all of his friends take the same bus route home from school. They all live in the same neighborhood, but Jaemin didn’t know that until he met them at Eclipse School of Ballet. The only exception to that is Renjun, who Jaemin knew from elementary school.

The bus they take is one of the yellow school buses because they live far enough away that the school district decided to send out a yellow bus to save them from forty-five minutes of public transportation each way. Jaemin actually prefers the yellow bus to the public bus system. On the yellow school bus, there’s always a group of rowdy freshmen at the back – once upon a time, _they_ were the rowdy freshmen – and their bus driver smiles when they get on board and occasionally hands out jelly beans. The most comforting aspect of the yellow bus, though, is the noise. On a city bus, everyone’s noses are in their phones and there’s a pair of earbuds in their ears and the silence is almost deafening. On the yellow bus, voices and noises spill over the seats and nestle in Jaemin’s ears. He’s content to listen to all of it, even though the screaming can be a bit much sometimes.

There’s a loud thump as Donghyuck collapses into the seat across from Jaemin on the bus, his limbs spilling over the seat. It looks incredibly uncomfortable, considering he’s still wearing his backpack. Jaemin figures that anyone who doesn’t know Donghyuck is a dancer would be more confused than him in math class if they found out. Donghyuck shrugs his backpack to the side and fixes Jaemin with a somewhat maniacal grin. “Cast list goes up today,” he says. His bright tone completely contrasts the evil glint in his eyes.

Squished between the window and Jaemin, Renjun emits a loud groan and buries his face in his backpack. A muffled, “Don’t remind me,” is all he comments on the matter, and Jaemin pats his seatmate’s back reassuringly.

“I’m kinda excited, honestly,” Donghyuck says. His grin is a little wider now that he’s gotten a reaction from Renjun. Jaemin furrows his eyebrows, and Donghyuck rolls his eyes. “You remember what the audition was like, don’t you? If anything, this’ll be the best production we’ve ever been in!”

“You know what I heard?” Hyunjin says, piling into a seat with Felix. He waits for all eyes – except Renjun’s, he’s still sulking – to be on him before continuing. “I heard that some of us might even be principals.”

Jaemin’s eyes widen, and so do Donghyuck’s. Even Renjun lifts his head up from his backpack pillow. Jaemin leans around the edge of the seat in front of him. “Where’d you hear that?” he asks, giving Hyunjin his best scrutinizing stare. In previous years, their ballet school’s renditions of _the Nutcracker_ had Clara and the Nutcracker Prince as younger kids, two ten-year-olds from one of the elementary level classes. Then, a couple company members would step in and play the role of the Sugar Plum Fairy and the Cavalier, and they would perform the variations as well as the _grand pas de deux_ at the end of the show. If Ten were to cast upper-level dancers as principals, there’s a high probability the lucky two will get to perform the variations or the _grand pas_ , maybe even both.

And that’s why Jaemin’s scrutinizing Hyunjin – there’s a lot on the line now that he’s spouted this information.

Hyunjin’s been known to exaggerate – his contact name on Jaemin’s phone, ‘dramallama,’ doesn’t come from nowhere – but he doesn’t like to outright lie because that would put his credibility in danger. When he doesn’t falter under Jaemin’s stare, Jaemin leans back into his seat and lets out a shallow breath. He’s now so much more aware of his heart thumping in his chest.

Hyunjin straightens up in his seat, proud to have withheld Jaemin’s truth-searching stare. “I had to come straight from school on Wednesday and I heard Ten and Moonbyul discussing casting in the office. Ten wanted to cast a few people from our level as Clara and the Prince, but I had to keep walking and I couldn’t hear what Moonbyul said.” His shoulders slump a little, so Felix shuffles around in his seat and hooks his chin on Hyunjin’s shoulder to comfort him.

“You did good, Hyunjin,” Jaemin reassures him. Hyunjin nods, knocking into Felix’s head with his. “At least we have something to theorize about for the next, I dunno, two hours until class starts.”

“What’re we theorizing about?” Jeno asks, shuffling through the aisle with Yangyang and Shotaro trailing behind him. He shoves Donghyuck’s shoulder so he can sit down, and Yangyang claims the seat in front of Jaemin and Renjun for him and Shotaro. Jeno looks at Jaemin to fill him in, but Renjun beats Jaemin to it.

“One of us might get to be a principal,” he says, and clutches his backpack closer to his chest.

Jeno breathes out slowly and leans against the back of his seat. Shotaro whistles in awe, and Yangyang tries to whistle but ends up just blowing air out of his mouth. Felix giggles, and Yangyang shoots him a death glare.

“Who do you guys think it’s gonna be?” Shotaro asks quietly, like he’s afraid of getting an answer.

Nobody says anything after that. Making a prediction that turns out to be wrong might create some weird, competitive tension between the boys, so Jaemin holds his tongue. But his eyes flit over to Jeno, betraying his guess for the role. He looks away quickly, gaze going to his phone in his lap because, for some reason, Jeno is looking right at him.

The school bus lurches, jolting everyone in their seats and the advanced level boys out of their thoughts. There’s a clacking of teeth, and Jaemin sees Felix holding his jaw gingerly while Hyunjin repeatedly apologizes for his bony shoulders.

“Hey.” Jaemin turns his head towards the voice. It’s Jeno, leaning across the aisle. “Who do you think’s gonna get Clara?”

Jaemin shrugs in response. “I dunno, Heejin or Yeji, maybe? Hyejoo and Yerim are both good too, but I think they’re probably gonna end up picking a senior.”

“Yeah, that sounds about right,” Jeno agrees. He sits back up in his seat. “It’d be nice to dance a principal role before we graduate.” His head falls back and rests on the back of the seat. Jaemin finds himself staring and tries to focus his gaze on his twiddling fingers instead.

“That’s the dream,” Jaemin says. _And I think you might get to live it._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ballet vocab in this chapter:  
> petit allegro - a series of jumps in center  
> tour - a turning jump (typically used by male dancers)  
> Bournonville jeté - a leap that lands on one foot with the other leg in an attitude (jeté means 'to throw' and Bournonville is the creator of the 'Bournonville method' of ballet)  
> fifth position - one of the five positions of the feet, where one foot is crossed in front of the other so the heel of your front foot touches the toe of your back foot  
> fouetté - means 'to whip.' in the context of the chapter, a fouetté is a turn where one leg extends out to the front, then to the side before drawing the foot into passé (toe touches below the knee) and turning. a quad fouetté is a turn with four revolutions.  
> grand pas de deux - 'a grand dance for two.' in the Nutcracker, the pas de deux is at the end of the second act. 
> 
> i'm so excited to share my love for ballet and the Nutcracker with this fic! i hope you're all doing well, don't forget to stay hydrated and take a few deep breaths if you're feeling stressed. have a wonderful day/night!


	2. casting and the product of dedication

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is on the shorter side, but the next one will be a longer (hopefully i'll get it out tomorrow!) i also updated the summary
> 
> anyway, i hope you're doing well today/tonight, and without further ado, here's chapter two!

Jaemin’s never been the jealous type. He doesn’t like what jealousy does to relationships and can’t fathom losing any of his friendships over whatever petty feelings jealousy evokes. This is why the only emotion filling his chest when the entire advanced level crowds around the cast list before class is pride.

Heejin finds her name fairly quickly and emits a high-pitched squeak. The rest of the advanced girls crowd around and congratulate her once they read the first line of the cast list that reads: _Clara: Heejin Jeon._ Then, after reading the second line – _Nutcracker Prince: Jeno Lee –_ Jeno receives many shoulder claps as congratulations. Yangyang pulls him into a quick bro-hug, and Felix just straight up hugs him, lifting him off the floor maybe half an inch before his arms give out.

Jaemin stands back and watches the chaos of congratulations unfold in front of him. He can sort of see the cast list if he squints a little. He’ll probably come back after class and look at it when no one else is here, just to cement it in his mind. Before everyone’s heads obscured the words, he spotted his name in the snow scene along with Renjun, Hyejoo and Yeji. He’s happy about that; the snow scene is one of his favorites because of the choral line in the music. When he understudied for snow in the past, most of the cast started singing along with the music when the choir came in. The understudies eventually joined in, and Moonbyul didn’t have the heart to tell them to stop.

He snaps out of reminiscing when someone shoulders their way through the crowd towards him. Jeno grins at him broadly, his eyes smiling with his lips. Jaemin can’t help the smile making its way onto his face; Jeno’s happiness is just that contagious. “C’mere,” Jaemin says, opening his arms. Jeno accepts the hug gleefully and squeezes Jaemin tightly in his excitement. Jaemin pats him on the back. “Living the dream, aren’t you, Prince boy.”

Jeno pulls back and his hands go to his ears. They’re turning a bright red. “I swear, if you start calling me that all the time Jaemin, your future may not look so great,” he threatens. Of course, there’s no actual threat because, one, it’s Jeno, and two, his serious face lasts for approximately two seconds before he starts laughing. Jaemin ends up giggling along with him because that’s what friends do.

“Seriously though,” Jaemin says after recovering from their laughing fit, “you really deserve this, I’m not kidding.”

Jeno stands up straighter with the weight of Jaemin’s words. “Thanks, Jaem,” he says, his words soft and his smile genuine. Jaemin grins back at him. That warm prickle in his ribcage is back, tapping away in his chest like a pianist, but he’s not quite sure why. Then, Jeno shoves him towards the cast list. “Now, stop being so nice and letting everyone else have a turn, you need to go find your roles.”

Jaemin rolls his eyes at Jeno – who would complain about someone being _too_ nice? – and navigates his way through the thinned-out crowd in front of the cast list. The only one left scrutinizing it is Hyunjin, who always memorizes things like this. Jaemin swears he only does it to be able to answer a question that might pertain to it, like someone might jump out and give him a pop quiz on anything at any moment. However, having Hyunjin around does make it fairly easy to complete a headcount since he always knows who’s supposed to be there.

Jaemin confirms his name in the snow scene, and the giddiness from seeing it the first time comes back – is that the feeling he had while he was talking to Jeno? He shakes his head to kick out that particular wondering, and his eyes move down the cast list to Act II. _Spanish Chocolate: Chaeryeong Lee, Hyunjin Hwang, Jaemin Na,_ he reads. His head immediately turns to Hyunjin next to him. Hyunjin just grins and holds his hand in front of his head, pretending to tip an invisible cowboy hat towards Jaemin. “Look forward to working with ya,” he says, and Jaemin snorts, but he can’t help the grin on his face.

After skimming through the list a few more times, Jaemin has a pretty good idea of what the show is going to look like. Just based on the lineup of dancers Ten chose for the dolls, it’s going to be fun to watch. He sees that Donghyuck is one of the Russian Dancers along with Shotaro and nearly squeals out loud at how perfect the casting is. The intermediate level boys are cast as the mice in the fight scene and bon-bons in Act II. One of the intermediate boys got the role of the Mouse King. _Jisung Park,_ Jaemin reads. He might be the one that dances like he was born dancing whenever the advanced level pops in to watch the end of the intermediate level class. Either that, or he’d been _plié_ -ing in the womb.

Jaemin’s scan is complete when his eyes rake back up to the top where the principals’ names stand out in bold print against the white paper. He reads over Jeno’s name more than once, and the warm prickles start tapping away at his ribs again. Jaemin’s not sure whether it’s happiness or pride, but that doesn’t really matter at this point. One of his best friends has a principal role in _The Nutcracker,_ and that’s all there is to it.

He watches Jeno a bit more closely in class tonight, paying attention to all the little details Jeno puts into his technique and the expressions he wears throughout the combinations, even the tough ones. Towards the end of class, Jeno cleanly executes a beated _petit allegro_. Even with sweat dripping down his neck and dampening his shirt, he manages a wry grin when Moonbyul tells them to repeat the combination. _That,_ Jaemin thinks, _is why he’s our Prince._

~

Jeno transferred to Eclipse School of Ballet at the start of seventh grade. He acclimated relatively easily to the new environment, given that he’d just moved from out-of-state. It helped that Jaemin and Renjun recognized him from school.

He wasn’t particularly good at ballet – none of them were, they were twelve – but there was always this determination Jeno had to get the combinations right, to finish them even when the rest of them felt like collapsing. Jaemin would watch Jeno dance across the floor and wonder if he had what it takes to make it.

As the years went on, the number of people that stayed with ballet dwindled. Jisung Han and Seungmin Kim both left to put their all into the drama club, citing musical theatre as their true passion, and Jeongin Yang dropped ballet the moment he found his calling in tap. Soon, the only dancers left in the advanced level were the ones that were prepared to dedicate the last of their teen years to this unforgiving yet beautiful art form.

Ballet demands perfection, pushes you past your limits until your legs and arms are shaking from overuse and your muscles are stretched beyond repair. And while perfection is technically unattainable, Jaemin and his cohort are nothing if not dedicated, and with dedication comes improvement. Renjun is no longer the boy that couldn’t make it through a _petit allegro_ , Chaeryeong is no longer the girl that couldn’t hold a shape, and Felix is no longer the boy that couldn’t keep his leg up to the height his flexibility could reach. Jaemin watches as his friends work to find that unattainable perfection that ballet demands of its dancers. He watches as Donghyuck learns to spot his head quicker, more efficiently, watches as Ryujin does hops _en pointe_ without a pained expression, watches as Hyunjin leaps into the air in a perfect split.

Jaemin watches as Jeno dances across the floor, toes pointed and arms extended, and tries to put a name to what it is that makes watching him so mesmerizing.

He doesn’t know if he can properly explain it, Jeno’s dancing. It’s strong, it comes from firm foundations of technique and years of building muscle from repeating the same movements over and over again. It’s fluid the way a dancer should be, the way Jeno moves his body from one shape to the next without a break or a pause in his movement.

But underneath the solid technique and fluidity of movement, Jaemin sees a glimmer of that determination Jeno had when he first started taking classes here. It’s more muted now, covered up by a stronger feeling, urgency.

Jeno dances like he needs to, like he needs to dance the way he needs to breathe.

Sometimes, Jaemin finds it hard to look away.

~

Rehearsals start the weekend after casting goes up. Absolutely no one is surprised by this, in fact, they’re accustomed to it. Since they’re all students, they can’t rehearse during the week, especially not with a big chunk of the cast being juniors and seniors in high school. Ten admitted to everyone, as he popped into the advanced level class Saturday morning, that if things got down to the wire before opening night, they would have to schedule some rehearsals on weeknights. Jaemin can’t even comprehend thinking about opening night when the first rehearsal hasn’t started yet. It’s only October, but years past have shown that time flies unnaturally fast during Nutcracker season.

When everyone else sheds their flat shoes after class in favor of coats and street shoes, Jaemin pulls on a pair of track pants over his tights. He pulls one fuzzy sock out of his bag and stares at it with furrowed eyebrows, then goes back to his bag to find its mate. “Hey.” Donghyuck’s voice comes from behind Jaemin, paired with an aggressive shoulder tap. Jaemin sighs despondently – he still hasn’t found that other sock – and turns to Donghyuck. “You’re staying here?” he asks, head tilted to the side.

“Yeah,” Jaemin says. He turns back to his bag. “Spanish starts rehearsal today, right after fight scene.”

“Oh,” Donghyuck says. Jaemin lets out a loud whoop, turning many heads in the boys’ changing room. He holds the missing sock in the air like Simba before plopping down and tugging both fuzzy socks onto his feet. He turns to Donghyuck, who looks like he’s trying _very_ hard to repress a grin. “Did you bring a lunch or something? Or did you snack before class started?”

“Uh,” Jaemin hesitates, turning back to his bag once more. “I have… this granola bar,” he says, his hand emerging from the bag clutching it. He fiddles with it in his grasp and looks down at the wrapping. “And it’s… three weeks away from being expired.” He mumbles that part to himself. He’d probably get an earful from Renjun if he found out how long that thing’s been sitting at the bottom of Jaemin’s bag.

“Hate to break it to you, Jaem, but that doesn’t qualify as lunch,” Renjun pipes up. His coat is zipped up to his chin and he’s holding a hat in his hands. The early October weather isn’t even that harsh, but Renjun’s a bit sensitive to the cold. Jaemin takes full advantage of this every winter by pointing out how cute his flushed cheeks make him look. Renjun always slaps Jaemin’s shoulder after those comments, but he never tells him to stop. Jaemin thinks he likes being the cute one of their friend group.

“I never said it was lunch, I said it was a granola bar,” Jaemin says, hands raised in surrender. Renjun heaves a characteristic sigh, and Donghyuck snickers. A smile works its way onto Jaemin’s face, and he stuffs his free hand back into his bag. “I probably have, like, a dollar I could buy some trail mix with.”

“Or you could share some of my lunch.” Jaemin’s gaze goes from his bag to Jeno. He’s standing on the other side of the room with a lunch bag in hand. Jaemin hopes he wasn’t standing there like that the whole time waiting to jump into the conversation. “I packed it this morning to eat before fight scene starts, but I don’t think I’ll be able to eat all of it,” he explains. Jaemin catches Jeno’s fingers fiddling with the handles of the bag.

“You’re sure you’re letting me eat because you’re not hungry, and not because I’m a sad child who only has a stale granola bar to eat?” Jaemin presses, one eyebrow raised for full interrogation effect.

Renjun lets out an offended-sounding gasp. “You never said it was stale, now it’s even less qualified to be a meal!” he says indignantly. Jaemin just shrugs apologetically, a sheepish smile on his face. Renjun sighs again and leaves the changing room, muttering something about, “Taking care of others… never himself…” Donghyuck gives a tiny wave before following Renjun out.

Jaemin’s eyes find their way back to Jeno, who’s looking at him expectantly. “So…” he starts, dragging out the ‘o.’ He peeks inside his lunch bag. “Do an apple and pretzel sticks sound more appetizing than a stale granola bar?”

Jaemin sighs dramatically and takes his sweet time pushing himself to standing, partly because he’s sore after class and partly because being petty is fun. “Those sound like wonderful appetizers before I begin my main course of a stale granola bar,” he says. Jeno grins, and it brings out the eye smile. Jaemin steps over his street shoes towards the door. “C’mon, we should head to the lounge to eat. You know how Moonbyul is about food in the changing rooms.”

The lounge isn’t much of a lounge, just a room with a small circular table in the middle and some sad wooden chairs around it. Sure, it’s got some luxuries, like a fridge-freezer combo shoved up into the corner that houses ice packs and frozen peas for all the dancers’ rehab needs, and a microwave that always smells like ramen. As it is, the lounge is empty save for Jaemin and Jeno, but it’s a welcome silence, especially after the noise of the boys’ changing room.

“So,” Jaemin says once Jeno divvies up the apple – he’d sliced it and put it in a plastic baggy at home – and shoves a handful of pretzel sticks in Jaemin’s direction. “You’re really not hungry?”

Jeno breathes out of his nose and takes a pretzel stick to nibble on. “I mean, I am, but I don’t wanna throw up a bunch of food in the studio during the first rehearsal.”

“Ah, that makes sense,” Jaemin says. “When does that start, again?”

Jeno turns around in his seat to find the clock on the microwave. “Ten minutes.” When he turns back around, he chomps a little more aggressively on the pretzel stick. When he finishes that one, he doesn’t move to pick up another.

“Right.” Jaemin doesn’t really know what to say to that. He kind of wishes he could stop time, just for a little while so Jeno could eat a full meal and get enough rest before rehearsal without having to worry about vomiting in the studio. Unfortunately, time-stopping powers seem to be reserved for Doctor Strange and whoever wields the time stone, so he sets his elbows on the table and leans a little closer to Jeno. “I think it’s okay to be nervous.”

Jeno’s eyes move from some spot on the table to Jaemin. His eyebrows are furrowed like he’s going to try and deny his nerves, but the will to fight over it leaves him quickly. His shoulders lower a good half an inch. “How is being nervous a good thing?” he asks. His voice is shaky, and Jaemin wants to hold it in his hands and make it strong again.

“It shows that you care,” Jaemin says simply. He could explain further, and maybe he will in the future. But right now, those words seem to be enough for Jeno. He’s breathing a little easier now, and when he reaches for another pretzel stick, Jaemin smiles. He sneaks a peek at the microwave clock over Jeno’s shoulder. “You should probably get going soon.”

“Oh, shoot, you’re right.” Jeno looks at the mess on the table.

“I can take this stuff back to the changing room for you,” Jaemin offers. “I don’t think it would make a very good impression for the principal to be late to rehearsal.”

Jeno finds Jaemin’s gaze again, eyes wide in relief. “You’d do that?” Jaemin nods and stands up from his chair, already putting the uneaten pretzel sticks back into their plastic bag. “Thank you so much, Jaemin, you’re an angel,” Jeno says. He pushes his chair in when he gets up and sends one last grateful smile Jaemin’s way before bounding out of the lounge to the big studio.

That warm feeling is back, but it’s a little less prickly than before, like it’s been smoothed over. It reminds him of honey, slowly dripping off a piece of warm toast. As he brings Jeno’s lunch bag back to the changing room, Jaemin wonders why it changed, and what that could possibly mean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ballet vocab in this chapter:  
> plié - 'to bend.' literally just bending your knees in any position, then straightening your legs. there is a sequence of pliés that dancers do at the beginning of class as a warm up which includes demi-pliés (you only bend a little) and grand pliés (this is basically a squat but you have to use ballet posture so it's hard)  
> beated petit allegro - same as petit allegro (series of jumps), except the jumps are beated, which basically means you switch your legs in midair before landing. there are many types of beats, and you can beat a jump more than once  
> en pointe - 'on pointe.' you gotta be wearing pointe shoes to go en pointe
> 
> alright i hope you enjoyed this chapter! comments and kudos are always appreciated, and i hope wherever you are you have a great day/night!


	3. rehearsal and the role of an understudy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's the longer chapter i was talking about! happy reading!

The changing room isn’t the most comfortable place to rest, it’s really just a place for the dancers to put their dance bags and street clothes. There used to be a couple chairs, but a leg broke on one of them and no one knows where the other one went. So, after Jaemin tucks Jeno’s lunch back into his dance bag, he slides down the wall to sit on the floor next to his own bag and pulls out his phone. He’s got forty-five minutes to kill until Spanish rehearsal starts, and there’s a game Renjun made him download that he has to practice so he doesn’t get eaten alive when they play together.

Jaemin’s astronaut character is getting ejected from the spaceship on a bullshit claim when someone barges into the changing room with enough force to knock the door off its hinges. At the noise, he drops his phone in surprise and whips his head around to the doorway. Jisung Park, the boy that got the cast as the Mouse King, is panting heavily, both hands on the doorframe to catch his breath. Jaemin raises an eyebrow at him in concern, and makes to give Jisung his water bottle, but Jisung waves him away.

“Are you okay?” Jaemin asks. “I thought fight scene was rehearsing.”

“We never got started,” Jisung pants, “because Clara – Heejin, right? – isn’t here yet.” He takes a deep breath and exhales slowly, which seems to even out his breathing pattern. “Yuta said we’d wait five minutes for her to show, and now it’s been ten and she hasn’t come. He said he’d skewer all the mice if he didn’t have all principals in the studio fifteen minutes after rehearsal was supposed to start.”

Jaemin purses his lips. “Did he sound serious?”

“He didn’t sound _super_ pissed, but there _are_ sword props for the scene, so…” Jisung trails off, shaking his head.

“Isn’t the understudy there? Can’t she go in for Heejin for now?” Jaemin asks.

Jisung shakes his head again. “There aren’t any understudies listed. Either their names didn’t get printed, or Ten forgot about them. Actually, I wouldn’t be too surprised if he forgot, casting seems like a pretty stressful job.”

“So, what are you doing here?” Jaemin asks. “Did you check the girls’ changing room? Are any of them still here?”

“I knocked, but no one answered,” Jisung laments. His eyes are fixed on Jaemin now; he looks desperate. “Look, I kind of don’t want to be the king of a bunch of kebabs, so if you’re not busy could you come down to the studio?”

Jaemin’s leg starts bouncing. His flat shoes are right on the top of his bag where he left them. _It won’t hurt to fill in for just one rehearsal_. Mind made up, Jaemin swipes up his shoes as he pushes himself off the floor. “Okay, let’s go,” Jaemin says, and Jisung scrambles out of the doorway. “Wouldn’t wanna keep Yuta waiting.”

“Yeah,” Jisung breathes. He pushes open the boys’ changing room door and books it down to the studio with Jaemin hot on his heels. “Honestly, the guy’s a little scary. But he’s also crazy good at dancing, so I guess that makes up for the fact he might not be great with teenagers.”

“Do you think he’ll be okay with me understudying for the time being?” Jaemin asks. His voice gets a little high towards the end and he cringes. He can’t imagine in this day and age that any of the company members – most of whom are millennials – would turn up their noses at a boy dancing a girl’s role, but it can’t hurt to make sure.

Jisung stops in front of the closed studio door. “I think he’ll be more than okay with it,” he says, so confidently that Jaemin raises an eyebrow. “He’s got a pan pride flag on his backpack; I saw it when he walked in before rehearsal started.”

Jaemin breathes out, and some nervous tension leaves his chest. Jisung’s hand grips the handle of the studio door, and it’s the moment before he yanks it open that Jaemin realizes how Jeno felt just half an hour ago. The only difference between them is that Jaemin’s participation in this scene isn’t permanent; he’s just a placeholder until Heejin arrives.

The door opens and Jisung beckons Jaemin inside. “Mr. Yuta, I found an understudy,” he announces.

A man with a short ponytail tied at the base of his neck turns around, hand pinching the bridge of his nose. Jaemin figures that’s not the first time he’s done that today. “It’s just Yuta, okay, Jisung?” Yuta clarifies, and Jisung nods quickly. “Mr. Yuta makes me feel old, I’m not ready to give up my youth just yet. I get enough grief about that from the other company members, even though they’re all around my age. Like, I get it, my knees cracked when I did a _grand plié,_ but that was one time!” Yuta must realize he’s getting a little heated because he heaves a deep sigh and pinches the bridge of his nose again. “But I digress,” he says, and claps his hands. His gaze goes to Jaemin, and Jaemin understands what Jisung said about Yuta being a little scary. His eyebrows furrow as he scrutinizes Jaemin, then lets out a deep breath. “You’ll do, I guess.”

Jaemin isn’t quite sure what he’s supposed to do, so he just stands there with his hands behind his back. His eyes wander around the room until they land on Jeno, who smiles when he realizes Jaemin’s looking at him. If he’s surprised to see Jaemin here, it doesn’t show on his face. It’s then Jaemin remembers what understudying Clara means: partnering with the Nutcracker Prince. _Partnering with Jeno,_ his mind clarifies. The warm feeling is back, and so are the prickles, making piano keys out of his ribs.

“… we’ll have our first cast Clara for next rehearsal,” Yuta says, snapping Jaemin out of his head. “You…” he trails off, intense stare targeted at Jaemin once again.

“I’m Jaemin,” he says, and it comes out a lot smaller than he wanted it to. Is he really that nervous?

“Okay, Jaemin, I need you to find the Nutcracker prop, we couldn’t find it near the swords earlier. Jeno, why don’t you help him while I get the mice sorted out,” Yuta says. It’s not a question, so neither of them waste time hightailing it to the storage room adjacent to the big studio.

Half a minute into searching, Jeno breaks the silence. “So,” he says, “you’re Clara now.”

“Clara’s understudy,” Jaemin corrects, and continues pawing through a box of dolls. “At least until Ten finds out and reassigns one of the girls to do it. I’m just filling the hole for now.” The Nutcracker isn’t in the box, so he lifts it off the stack and opens the box below it.

“Hey, don’t sell yourself short,” Jeno says, his voice muffled by the row of costumes he’s hidden behind. “You’re good enough to understudy Clara full-stop, not just temporarily.” Seconds later, there’s a metallic clanging noise and Jaemin looks over his shoulder to find the source. Jeno holds up a long box with a dent in one corner, smiling sheepishly. “Found it.”

Jaemin steps over a pile of prop guns and takes the box from Jeno. “Hope you didn’t break it,” he says, opening the box and gently lifting the Nutcracker out. It’s not a good-looking Nutcracker – the beard is all matted and one of its arms is duct-taped to the rest of the body – but holding it still feels almost as magical as dancing in the production named after it. Holding it in his hands, Jaemin almost believes that a prince of his own will appear.

Then he blinks, and the moment’s over. He looks up and finds Jeno staring at him, head tilted in observation. The warm feeling floods Jaemin, and it feels so natural he barely even notices it without the insistent prickling. “Well?” Jeno finally says, nodding to the Nutcracker. “Is it broken?”

Jaemin remembers the doll in his hands. He considers it for a moment, then cradles it in his arms like he’s seen so many Claras do before. It fits nicely in the crook of his arm, and he can’t help but think it feels _right._ “I… I think it’s good.” He settles for using those words; he doesn’t think he could fully describe the feeling.

A beat later, he drags his eyes away from the Nutcracker and meets Jeno’s gaze. Jeno studies him for a moment, some sort of softness in his eyes that Jaemin’s never seen before. Then, he gives a small, firm nod, almost like a seal of approval. “Well then, I guess we should head back,” Jeno says. His voice is soft, and the light touch he leaves on Jaemin’s elbow to let him leave the room first is even softer.

In the short walk back to the studio, Jaemin notices the warm feeling again. This time, the prickles are clawing at his throat, and the warmth floods his chest like a plunging waterfall.

~

Jaemin and Jeno try to enter the studio quietly, but the door is heavy and the squeak it emits is louder than the music coming through the speakers. Yuta’s attention gets diverted from the mice, and the scrutinizing glare on his face melts when he spots the Nutcracker in Jaemin’s arms. “Oh good, you’re finally back,” he says, sticking out his arm and pressing pause with the speakers’ remote. The mice stagger to a stop behind him, and Jaemin wonders just how much Yuta was able to get done in the five minutes he and Jeno were gone.

Yuta beckons the two of them to his side. “You get one chance to watch what we’ve done so far, then I’m putting you in. I trust that you two have enough spatial awareness at your level not to run into any of them. Got it?” Jaemin nods quickly, and Jeno offers a thumbs-up in response. “Good,” Yuta says, and presses ‘rewind’ on the remote. “From the top!” he shouts over the track being rewound, and the mice scramble to their respective wings, marked on the studio flooring with blue tape.

The music starts, and immediately, three of the mice dart out of wing one, stage left. Spread out across the downstage area, they do an embellished version of a step-turn-step-claw pattern. It’s a staple theme step for any mouse, Jaemin remembers doing it when he was in fight scene a few years ago. On the high squeaks, they jump in a cannon, starting with the one on stage right and moving down the line. Then, as the other three mice scurry onstage from wing three on stage right, the first three mice drop low to the ground with a beated jump to land on one knee. The three mice upstage repeat the same steps as Jisung enters from stage left wing two with a stag leap, his hands curled into claws. The three in the front jump up from the ground with the next high squeaks and break off to join the other mice at the back.

“Split center, split center!” Yuta yells. The two mice nearest to the center marking look at their feet and make adjustments quickly before forming a tableau. Holding hands in a line, they all stand at different levels in various poses. There’s not many of them, but Yuta used their height to fill the space, and the sharp points of bent legs and elbows to give off the rugged, evil vibe of the mice. Jisung tiptoes around in front of them, pretending to observe an imaginary Clara as she goes to lay down with her Nutcracker under the Christmas tree.

During a burst in the music, Jisung picks up an invisible Nutcracker and holds it above his head. The mice whip their heads to look at him, disturbing their tableau. They break apart and skitter over to Jisung, watching as he does a short _petit allegro_ as a form of victory dance. They crowd behind him and copy his moves, then hold onto each other as Jisung plays tug of war with imaginary-Clara over the invisible Nutcracker. Jisung’s arms go above his head like the Nutcracker’s gone flying, and the mice’s arms all reach to the sky as they try to catch it. They watch it fly into the wing, then turn their gaze to imaginary-Clara.

As the clock starts chiming midnight, Jisung takes slow steps towards imaginary-Clara, and the other mice fan out from behind him and circle around him. They slow down and stop as the chimes dwindle and turn towards Yuta expectantly.

The choreographer gives an ever-so-subtle nod. “Not bad, not bad,” he says, reaching his arm out to pause the music. “But remember what I said about spacing. Soobin and Kai always split center when the six of you are in a line, and if you’re in threes, then it’s quarter-center-quarter, okay?” The boys all nod quickly, but don’t give a verbal response. Yuta sighs. “I didn’t mean what I said about skewering you guys at the beginning of rehearsal. You’re all very talented and this production needs you.” Jaemin watches as the boys’ shoulders all drop at least an inch in relief. “Besides, Moonbyul would probably skewer _me_ if I did so much as make one of her students cry, so… no crying, please,” Yuta says, holding up an accusatory finger.

“Roger that, Mr. Yuta, sir!” one of the boys says loudly. Jisung elbows him strongly in the side, and the boy nearly falls over.

“I said just ‘Yuta,’ please, Chenle,” Yuta says. His fingers twitch like he’s going to pinch the bridge of his nose again, but he stops himself and turns to Jaemin and Jeno. “Well? Jeno, I haven’t gotten to your entrance yet, but Jaemin? You’re good so far?”

Jaemin finds himself nodding. “Yeah, I think I’m good. Where do you want this?” He gestures to the Nutcracker in his arms.

“Center-center, please,” Yuta says. Jaemin runs over to find the stage marking as Yuta shouts, “Okay, from the top, no music! We’re gonna walk Jaemin through Clara’s part.”

There isn’t much dancing thus far for Jaemin, just a bit of walking and over-exaggerated yawning, then tug-of-war with Jisung. He gets it down with one run-through without music and one with music. After the twelve chimes, Yuta announces that the gunshot happens as Jeno enters, commanding a prop cannon to shoot at the mice crowding around Jaemin and Jisung.

“You all cover your ears, yadda yadda yadda…” Yuta says, squinting down at his notebook. “Ah, right. Then, Jaemin, you break out of the mouse cult circle and cross the stage to Jeno. I’ll give you the steps in a second. Jisung, you…”

Yuta’s voice fades into the background as Jaemin peeks over the shoulders of one of the taller mice to find Jeno. He’s standing in stage left wing two, looking down at his shuffling feet. He looks up after a bit and sees Jaemin’s eyes on him. He grins and holds one hand up, beckoning Jaemin over with two fingers. He laughs afterwards at his joking gesture, and Jaemin offers a smile. His chest is warm.

“Jaemin!” Yuta calls, and Jaemin breaks eye contact with Jeno to look at the choreographer. “You’re gonna do a _balancé_ front and back _,_ then a _chassé en tournant_ and _temps levé,_ then book it over to Jeno. Got it?”

Jaemin marks the steps under Yuta’s watchful eye. _Simple enough,_ he thinks, and turns to the choreographer. “Yeah.”

“Good,” Yuta says and gives him a small nod. Jaemin forces down a smile at the approval. “Jeno, after Jaemin finishes that and Jisung makes it to downstage right, you’ll bring Jaemin downstage left and engage Jisung in battle.” He checks the clock on the wall near the speakers and sighs. “Well, I think that’s about as far as we’ll get. Let’s run this new part, then go from the beginning with music, and we’ll call it a day. Sound good?”

Jaemin echoes the rest of the cast’s agreement. He gets back into the center of the mouse cult circle, as Yuta called it, and waits for the music to start up again. Yuta rewinds it a few phrases, then presses ‘play’ a few seconds before the chimes.

They stand stationary until the chimes are over. Then, Jeno marches out like his legs and arms are made of wood, and uses one arm to guide the prop cannon that isn’t there for this rehearsal. The mice do a little popcorn jumping pattern when they spot Jeno, and Jisung halts his attack on Jaemin as his attention goes to the cannon.

At the loud _pow_ of the gunshot, they all cover their ears, then break into the new choreography. Jaemin bursts through the mouse cult circle and starts his choreo. It’s over in the blink of an eye, like everything is in the fast-paced fight scene, and Jaemin doesn’t have time to steel himself before Jeno takes one of his hands in his own. His other hand comes to rest at Jaemin’s waist as they walk downstage. Then, Jeno lets go of him to engage Jisung in battle, and that’s the end of it.

Jaemin’s skin is still prickling where Jeno touched it.

“That was great, everyone!” Yuta cheers from the front of the room. “Now, from the top with all that, and then you can go.”

Jaemin nods instead of speaking. Right now, that seems like the easiest thing to do. He places the Nutcracker back on center-center once more. When he walks, it feels like the studio flooring is made of air; any wrong step could make him fall through the floor into some kind of endless abyss. He gets into position in wing two on stage right and dares to look across the studio.

In the opposite wing, Jeno’s looking at him – because of course he is – and offers him a smile. The warmth from before, prickles included, claw their way up his throat, leaving his lungs in tattered shreds. Despite all that, Jaemin manages a grin before the music starts.

This time, Jaemin’s ready for the hand at his waist guiding him. It still feels sharp like a needle, but the warmth isn’t so warm, and he’s able to breathe.

The music stops, and clapping starts. It’s Yuta, Jaemin realizes, ending rehearsal. “Thank you for a great first rehearsal, and thanks, Jaemin, for stepping in,” he says. “See you next week everyone. Don’t forget your choreography!”

“We won’t, Mr. Yuta!” the boy Jaemin thinks is called Chenle says on his way out the studio door. Jisung elbows him again, and the rest of the boys give the two of them a wide berth. Jaemin smirks at their antics, and he hears Jeno snickering too. Yuta just pinches the bridge of his nose for what Jaemin hopes will be the last time today.

Then, the choreographer turns to the advanced boys. “You’re sticking around?”

“I’m in Spanish,” Jaemin answers. Yuta nods and looks to Jeno, who just shrugs. “You’re not. You should go home,” Jaemin tells him firmly.

“What if I want to stay and watch?” Jeno counters, raising an eyebrow in indignation.

“Then I would tell you you’re not allowed to,” Jaemin says. Then, with less bite, “It’s been a long day, Jeno. Rest isn’t just for the weak.” He knows he has Jeno beat when his shoulders drop after a large sigh.

“Fine, but the same goes for you, Jaem,” Jeno says as he goes to collect his water bottle. Jaemin rolls his eyes, but he gives Jeno a salute as he watches him leave the studio.

“Jaemin?” Yuta calls from the speakers where he’s fiddling with the phone cord. “Could you put the Nutcracker somewhere until the next rehearsal?”

“Sure,” Jaemin says. He traipses over to the doll in wing two, where it got left after the last run-through. He finds himself cradling it like he did when he first took it out of the box in the storage room. After a moment of consideration, he decides he likes how it fits in the crook of his arm, how _right_ it feels.

The small clink of the cord hitting the mirror turns Jaemin’s head towards Yuta. The choreographer is regarding him with the same look Jeno had in the storage room, except there’s no softness to his gaze like the one that overtook Jeno’s face. Instead, his stare is entirely full of approval. Jaemin wonders if any words on the tip of Yuta’s tongue – praise, maybe? – will fall out, but Yuta seems to hold it back. “I’ll see you around, Jaemin,” he finally says, nodding in his direction.

“Yeah…” Jaemin trails off. “Thank you.” He bows to the choreographer like he would to a teacher after class is dismissed, then makes for the door. His feet pound on the hard tile floors, and he clutches the Nutcracker a little tighter in his hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ballet vocab in this chapter:  
> grand plié - basically a squat, you pretty much bend your legs until your heels come off the ground (except in second position your heels should not come off the ground, don't ask me why i have no idea)  
> stag leap - not a ballet step, but it's a type of leap where both your knees are bent in the air in an attitude (leg lifted and slightly bent)  
> petit allegro - a series of jumps  
> balancé - 'to sway.' you step onto one leg with the other leg in a coupé (toes pointed, foot touching lower calf), then step onto the other leg and extend the first leg with a pointed foot, then step back onto the first leg in the same position as the first time you stepped on it. it's a waltz step so you feel it in 3 beats and count it: 1, 2, 3.   
> chassé en tournant - pronounced "shasay on turnah." chassé means 'to chase' and en tournant is 'turning.' basically, picture the step ten and winwin do in their 'lovely' cover for rainbow v at 1:18 (right after the drop towards the end).   
> temps levé - pronounced "tawn levay," means 'time held.' with one leg in arabesque (extended in the air behind you), you jump using the leg you're standing on. the goal is to jump high enough that you can point the foot that you jumped off from. the other goal is to appear like you're floating, but that's another technique altogether (shaky raindrop can explain it better than me: check out their video 'ballet dancer analyzes nct yuta' for a better idea of how dancers jump!)
> 
> wow that was a lot of vocab, my brain is breaking trying to explain it all in writing, plus the french spelling gives me a headache. thank god for online ballet dictionaries. anyway, hope you all enjoyed this chapter, and wherever you are, have a fantastic day/night!


	4. conversations and a name for warmth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i set the chapter count because i have most of the story written out already, but things could change so i'm not getting too attached to 13 chapters lol
> 
> anyway, hope you're doing well, and happy reading!

Hyunjin’s doing a jump warm up when Jaemin comes back from the storage room. He thuds to a stop as Jaemin walks in. “Hi, Jaemin,” he says brightly, flicking a few strands of hair out of his face. “Didn’t think you’d be here for another ten minutes.”

Jaemin pads over to Hyunjin and drops into the butterfly pose, feet pressed together. He relishes in sitting for a few seconds; he’s been on his feet practically all day, for class, then the search for the Nutcracker in the storage room, then understudying. _Oh, Hyunjin’s gonna love that story,_ he thinks, already getting into storytelling mode. “Well,” he says, pausing for dramatic effect. Hyunjin falls to the ground in front of him, warm up forgotten. _“I_ didn’t think I’d be understudying for Clara on the first rehearsal of the production.”

Predictably, Hyunjin’s jaw hits the floor. Jaemin cackles at his reaction and moves into a pigeon stretch. “Wait, so you…” Hyunjin falters as he tries to make sense of it. His eyebrows are all scrunched up and his bottom lip juts out. “You’re Clara’s understudy? Is that what I’m hearing?”

Jaemin laughs, leaning forward over his leg. “What you’re hearing is that I understudied for Clara. Heejin wasn’t there for fight scene rehearsal for some reason.” He furrows his eyebrows. They never did figure out why Heejin didn’t come to rehearsal. He shakes his head and says, “Anyway, it’s just a one-time thing. Once Moonbyul gets word of this, she’ll have Ten casting real understudies in a heartbeat.”

“What makes you think you’re not gonna be the understudy when they get casted?” Hyunjin asks, head tilted. “You’ve already understudied one rehearsal anyway, it wouldn’t be such a big leap to just say you’re the official understudy.”

Jaemin lets out a strained laugh. “Hyunjin, Clara is a girl’s role. And I know it sounds super toxic when I say it like that, but I feel like it’s not fair for me to take away the understudy role from someone who deserves it, like Yeji, or Ryujin.” After his explanation, Hyunjin’s mouth forms an ‘o.’ Jaemin sighs as he changes legs. “Besides, I’m not _nearly_ good enough to be a principal.”

There’s a snort from Hyunjin, and Jaemin looks up at him. “You’re kidding, right? Like, you’re just being humble when you say that?” Jaemin shakes his head and averts his eyes from Hyunjin, choosing to focus on a skid mark on the marley flooring caused by a pointe shoe. Hyunjin huffs a sigh, and says, “Okay, that’s fine. I won’t talk about it.”

They’re silent for a few moments, then Hyunjin hums thoughtfully. “It _is_ kinda weird that Heejin wasn’t there.” Jaemin’s chest feels a little lighter with the topic change. “She usually puts dance above everything else, the only thing I can think of is…” He sits bolt upright, so fast Jaemin flinches. Hyunjin looks at him seriously. “What day is it?”

“Uh, Saturday?”

“No, dummy, I meant the date.”

Jaemin rolls his eyes and tries to remember the numbers on his phone’s lockscreen. “I think it’s the tenth.”

Hyunjin’s eyes go wide with understanding, and he sighs knowingly. “Well, there’s your answer for why Heejin didn’t come; today’s the day she’s filming her audition tape for Julliard.”

“That’s today? Why didn’t she tell anybody?” Jaemin asks, eyebrows furrowed.

All Hyunjin offers in response is a shrug. “Maybe,” he says, shifting into the middle splits, “she thought she’d have an understudy, being a principal and all.” He’s got a wicked grin on his face, and Jaemin can’t help laughing.

“Yeah, Ten’s really gonna hear it from Moonbyul for this, isn’t he,” Jaemin says, still grinning.

“What’cha laughing at?” Jaemin whips his head around at the voice. Chaeryeong’s at the studio door, slipping off a pair of booties.

“Clara doesn’t have an understudy,” Hyunjin says, smirking now, “so guess who did her part during fight scene today.”

Chaeryeong brings her pointe shoes over to them and flops to the floor. “I dunno, who?” She slides her spacers between her toes and looks up at them as she shoves one foot into a shoe. Hyunjin’s eyes go right to Jaemin, still smirking. “What?” Chaeryeong asks, following his gaze. “Why’re you looking at Jaemin like that, it’s weird. What’s he got to do with Clara’s understudy…” she trails off and squints at Jaemin like that’ll give her a straight answer. Then, once all the puzzle pieces come together, her eyes go as wide as Hyunjin’s did. She stops tying her ribbons. “You’re – ”

Jaemin dips his head and lifts it back up with a grin. “Yes, you’re looking at the temporary Clara understudy.”

Chaeryeong’s mouth opens for a second in shock. Then, she quickly knots her ribbons so she can pay full attention to the conversation. “Wait, that’s so cool, though! Understudying for a principal is like the dream, other than being a principal, obviously.” Now that Chaeryeong’s started ranting, there’s no way to stop her, so Jaemin just lets her ramble on. “It’s different with the choreographer, right? They’re probably nicer to the principals, I’ve always thought that. Oh, that reminds me! How was it with Jeno?”

Jaemin’s eyes widen a little at the question. Something warm comes crawling up his throat. He tries to force it back down as he asks Chaeryeong, “How was what with Jeno?”

She knots the ribbons on her other shoe and shoots her legs out into a shallow middle split. “You know, how was dancing together? It was just fight scene, so that’s not a lot of partnering, but you guys still had to share the stage, carry a narrative together. How was that?”

Jaemin thinks answering that question would have the warmth and prickles latching themselves permanently onto the back of his throat, but Chaeryeong’s looking at him so eagerly, he can’t deny her an answer. “Well, we barely got past Jeno’s entrance, so there’s not much to tell,” he begins. His mind goes back to the moment in the storage room where Jeno looked at him so tenderly, then to the moment in the choreography where Jeno’s hand set fire to where it rested on his waist. Jaemin blinks those memories away, then continues a bit shakily. “Yeah, not much. I mean, you know how Jeno dances, with a passion of a thousand suns and all.”

“Yeah, but,” Hyunjin cuts in. His eyes are narrowed, not in anger, but the way they do when he’s on the hunt for information, for the truth. “How did he dance with you?”

The question throws Jaemin off guard. He takes more than a moment to answer, especially with the question forcing him to think about rehearsing with Jeno. His mind is full of giddy smiles sent across the studio and the searing hand on his waist. The warmth rises up past his throat, and he can feel the heat of it dotting his cheeks.

Eventually, he gulps to force down the feeling so he can talk. “I – I think we worked well together,” he says, cursing himself for stuttering. He knows Hyunjin will narrow in on that stutter and overanalyze it in every way possible.

“That’s kind of a given, Jaemin,” Chaeryeong says, giggling a little. She seems completely oblivious to the interrogation Hyunjin’s holding. “If you two weren’t working well together, I’d honestly be a little worried.”

“Worried?” Jaemin repeats. Chaeryeong nods as she crisscrosses her legs. “Why?”

“I mean, it’s weird if you and Jeno don’t get along. You guys are like… like – ”

“Like peanut butter and strawberry jelly,” Hyunjin supplies helpfully, and Jaemin sticks his tongue out at him.

“Okay, maybe not peanut butter and jelly,” Chaeryeong says after gauging Jaemin’s response. “Maybe more like hot chocolate and a fuzzy blanket on a cold winter night.” She sits up a little straighter, proud of her analogy. Jaemin likes it, it’s kind of poetic, not to mention accurate. There’s nothing better than sipping a mug of hot chocolate under a blanket when it’s freezing outside. His mind conjures up the image of him and Jeno sharing a blanket on a couch, a steaming mug in each of their hands as Jaemin leans his head on Jeno’s shoulder and Jeno turns his head to press a soft kiss into Jaemin’s hair and –

_Where did that come from?_

He buries his head in his hands and presses against his eyes with the heels of his palms. The image starts to fade away after a bit, but the effects of it are still there. Namely, the warmth on his face and the fast-paced _ba-dum, ba-dum_ of his heart in his ribcage.

Something pokes his knee, and Jaemin peeks out from between his fingers. Hyunjin’s staring at him with a little less intensity than before, but his curiosity is evident. “You good?” And despite the thudding in his ribs and the heat in his face, Jaemin nods and drops his hands to his lap. This seems to be enough for Hyunjin, who leans away.

There’s a clap at the studio door, and all three dancers whip their heads around. “Hi, Spanish dancers,” the man in the doorway says, toeing off his shoes. The dancers jump to their feet, Chaeryeong’s pointe shoes clunking on the floor. The man laughs at their rigidity, and says, “I’m Taeyong, I’ll be your choreographer. Are we ready to get started?”

An hour and too many _piqué_ turns to be considered healthy later, Taeyong dubs rehearsal to be over with the promise to see them in two weeks’ time.

“At least we get a little reprieve before hearing that music again,” Hyunjin drawls. His feet drag on the floor and his arms are draped over Jaemin’s shoulders for support. Jaemin’s heels hurt from dancing for nearly the entire day, but he still supports Hyunjin as they walk back to the changing room.

Chaeryeong nearly eats floor tile when she trips on one of her undone pointe shoe ribbons. Jaemin’s arm shoots out to steady her, and his hand latches around her elbow. “Thanks,” she says, then decides to just bite the bullet and yanks her shoes off her feet one by one in the middle of the hallway. Jaemin leaves his arm out for her to grab on to. Chaeryeong holds onto him because there’s only so far natural ballerina balance can take a person when they’re tired and still dizzy from how many times Taeyong made them run through the _manèges_ section.

“Honestly,” she says once she’s removed the tripping hazards attached to her feet, “I just hope we don’t forget the choreo. Two weeks is a long time.”

“We could try to practice it sometime together between now and the next rehearsal,” Jaemin suggests, prompting a loud groan from Hyunjin. “Oh, shut up, you’ll be more angry with yourself if you forget than if you listen to the music again.” Hyunjin doesn’t say anything to that, and Jaemin knows he’s won this battle. “We can figure out a time next week, I’m too tired to coordinate schedules.”

“Fine by me,” Chaeryeong says. She grips the doorknob to the girls’ changing room. “See you guys next week.”

“Bye, Chae,” Jaemin says. Hyunjin mumbles a goodbye as Chaeryeong disappears into her changing room. Jaemin drags Hyunjin down the hall a little further to the boys’ changing room and deposits him in front of his bag. “Next time I expect you to bring your own cane instead of using me, got it?” he jokes.

“Yeah, yeah,” Hyunjin says, swatting a hand at him. As he’s pulling off his flat shoes, he asks, “So, when are you going to tell him?”

Jaemin pauses with one foot in his pant leg to look over at Hyunjin. “Tell who, what?”

Hyunjin tilts his head quizzically and blinks at him a few times. Then, his eyes widen, like he’s found some sort of clarity. “So you haven’t figured it out yet,” he mutters, probably more to himself than Jaemin, and drops the conversation in favor of tugging on a pair of sweatpants.

“What don’t I know, Hyunjin?” Jaemin inquires, but it’s really more of an interrogation because Jaemin has a terrible feeling that there’s something glaringly obvious he’s missing out on, and he wants – _needs_ – to know. 

Hyunjin ignores him until his coat’s shrugged over his shoulders and his socked feet are in his slides. “I don’t think it’s something I can tell you,” is all he says, and then he’s gone. Jaemin watches the doorway Hyunjin walked through, holding out the tiniest bit of hope that he’ll come back and fill in the gaps missing in Jaemin’s knowledge.

Of course, Hyunjin doesn’t come back, and Jaemin knows he won’t, because Hyunjin’s never half-assed anything in his life, never gone back on his word. If his lips are sealed, nothing slips through them until he wants them to. Jaemin breathes out a deep sigh and tries not to mentally curse out Hyunjin’s steadfast nature. He tugs his street shoes onto his feet and zips up his dance bag, throwing the strap over one shoulder. There’s a discarded wrapper on the floor – it looks like an energy bar, so it’s probably Yangyang’s – and Jaemin swipes it up to throw away later. He turns off the light as he leaves the changing room.

By the time he gets home, Jaemin’s almost too tired for dinner, except for the fact that the smell of homemade pizza is way too enticing to skip out on. He inhales four pieces before his parents have even finished their first, then manages to cram one more into his mouth before his stomach starts to protest. Jaemin’s mom gives him a look as he reaches for his sixth, and Jaemin grins sheepishly as he retracts his arm. He says something about needing a shower and excuses himself from the table.

Toweling his hair dry, Jaemin flops onto his bed, phone in hand. He fluffs up his pillow and sighs into it; there’s nothing more relaxing than watching YouTube while he rests his poor, overworked feet. He’s in the middle of binge-watching Jordan Matter videos when a text pops up at the top of his screen. Jaemin’s this close to swiping it away when he sees the contact name. His finger taps the banner before he can even read the message preview.

**_jeno :):_ ** _rehearsal sure was fun today lol_

_yeah, but at the same time i was also fearing for my life **: nana**_

_yuta was pretty intense but i feel like that’s just cuz we don’t know him yet **: nana**_

**_jeno :):_ ** _i bet he’s just a big softie underneath that scrutinizing stare_

_yeah he totally is **: nana**_

**_jeno :):_ ** _anyway i wanted to tell u i think u did great stepping in for heejin today_

_aw u don’t have to say that **: nana**_

**_jeno :):_ ** _but it’s true thoooo_

_jeno u don’t have to give me a gold star every time i do smth new **: nana**_

**_jeno :):_ ** _that’s not what i’m trying to do tho_

**_jeno :):_ ** _i just wanna give u the compliments u deserve :)_

_i mean i guess i don’t think it’s such a big deal **: nana**_

_what i did today **: nana**_

**_jeno :):_ ** _u don’t have to do smth super big or important to get a compliment_

**_jeno :):_ ** _sometimes u can just be urself_

**_jeno :):_ ** _and that’s enough_

Jaemin looks at that last text for a long time, thumbs hovering over the keyboard. From the moment Jeno’s first text appeared on his screen, that same warm feeling started to thrum in his stomach, slowly spreading over his chest and inching up his throat the longer they texted. Then, Jeno goes out of his way to compliment him for understudying Clara during fight scene today and keeps trying to even after Jaemin says he doesn’t have to. The black curl of doubt that never ceases to clog up Jaemin’s throat at the first glimpse of a compliment hides under the new warmth, but Jaemin knows it’s still there.

Now, Jeno’s telling Jaemin that being himself is enough to warrant praise and it’s doing something to Jaemin’s throat. The black curl tightens its hold, and so does another feeling, but it’s not the warm one from before, where he felt like he couldn’t speak. This feeling is different, it’s like a glass filled to the top with water while little droplets keep falling into it. The droplets stay in the glass for a little, rising above the rim of the glass, until the surface tension snaps and the water spills over the sides like a torrential downpour and –

And Jaemin’s crying. He’s crying, fat tears rolling down his cheeks. He blinks twice before he realizes, wet droplets clumping his eyelashes together. His hand comes up to his face to wipe them away, and he sniffles. He wipes his eyes with the sleeve of his sweatshirt, and tries to get the crying under control, takes a deep breath in, breathes out with a shudder. Eventually, his breathing becomes easier, but hot tears still roll down his face.

His phone screen is dark by the time he feels like he can breathe without gulping on air. He unlocks it, and sees a new message from Jeno, probably sent while he was crying.

**_jeno :):_ ** _jaem? u there?_

_yeah i’m here **: nana**_

He bites his lip nervously as his fingers fly over the keyboard. He hits ‘send’ before he has a chance to second guess himself.

_thank u for saying all that stuff before, it really means a lot **: nana**_

**_jeno :):_ ** _u know, i think that’s the first time you’ve ever accepted a compliment from me_

**_jeno :):_ ** _ik this might be personal, but can i ask what prompted ur change of heart?_

Jaemin doesn’t know if he’s had a change of heart. All he knows is that Jeno’s words were enough to bring him to tears, and that’s got to mean they’re worth something, right? Jaemin wonders if he’d cry if Renjun or Donghyuck sent him a text like that, so raw and honest. He laughs at the thought; coming from either of those two, Jaemin would be worried if he did something wrong.

 _Change of heart, huh?_ Jaemin ponders, reading over Jeno’s message again. _Maybe it’s just you._

Something in his chest gets set alight and a little flame ripples through Jaemin’s body. It brushes his cheeks like a feather, makes his stomach churn and his throat feel dry. Most notably, it goes straight through his ribcage and latches onto his heart, squeezing it until it just about bursts.

Jaemin sits up in his bed, chest thumping too hard to be lying down. His phone feels heavy in his hands. He doesn’t know what to tell Jeno, so he writes everything but what needs to be said.

_ok mayhaps i cried a little **: nana**_

_i felt like i should address that because clearly it had an impact **: nana**_

**_jeno :):_ ** _wait, i didn’t mean to make u cry i’m sorryyyyy_

**_jeno :):_ ** _was it a good cry tho?_

_yeah **: nana**_

_it made me realize some things **: nana**_

**_jeno :):_ ** _oh yeah? like what?_

His heart’s already in his throat, already on its way to give itself away, so Jaemin doesn’t think too much before sending his next message.

_like that i think i’m ok with it when u compliment me **: nana**_

_is that weird? **: nana**_

**_jeno :):_ ** _nah i think it’s okay_

**_jeno :):_ ** _does this newfound liking of compliments mean u won’t become an adorable sputtering mess when someone gives u one?_

_that remains to be determined **: nana**_

**_jeno :):_ ** _lol ok fair enough_

Jaemin thinks about the things he learned today after he turns off the light in his room. First, that having a filling meal is important to being a functioning human being, especially one that dances all day. Second, that he’s pretty sure that Nutcracker doll is imbued with some kind of magic. He suspected it from the moment he held it in his arms, but he’ll have to check with Moonbyul to make sure.

Lastly, and most importantly, Jaemin learned that he likes Jeno Lee, that he’s completely weak for Jeno Lee, and that he’s probably well on his way to falling in love with him. That last thought plagues him as he blinks up at his ceiling. Then he wonders if Jeno’s eaten dinner yet and if he’s going to go to sleep soon.

Jaemin turns over in bed and squeezes his eyes shut. It’s hard to fall asleep with his heart pounding in his chest.

~

**_hyunjinhwang:_ ** _do u remember that one time u told me that thing about jeno_

_is this about his crush **: renjun**_

**_hyunjinhwang:_ ** _yeah actually… about that_

**_hyunjinhwang:_ ** _i have some new information_

_spill **: renjun**_

**_hyunjinhwang:_ ** _he likes him back_

_ur kidding **: renjun**_

**_hyunjinhwang:_ ** _maybe i shouldn’t say back, he has absolutely no clue_

**_hyunjinhwang:_ ** _and no, i’m not kidding, i grilled him before rehearsal today_

**_hyunjinhwang:_ ** _his face was almost as red as felix’s hair that one time he dyed it_

_this is… news to me **: renjun**_

_how did i not see it? **: renjun**_

**_hyunjinhwang:_ ** _i wouldn’t beat urself up over it, i think it’s a new development for him too_

_well, better late than never, i guess **: renjun**_

_do u have a plan? **: renjun**_

**_hyunjinhwang:_ ** _i have the vague outlines of one_

**_hyunjinhwang:_ ** _but it’s gonna take more than just me and u_

_should i make a gc? **: renjun**_

**_hyunjinhwang:_ ** _that would be great_

_ok, one sec **: renjun**_

_operation: nomin_

_hi everyone **: renjun**_

_we need ur help **: renjun**_

**_donghyuck:_ ** _tf is this_

**_donghyuck:_ ** _wait i just saw the gc name_

**_donghyuck:_ ** _i’m in_

**_yangx2:_ ** _me too_

**_felix:_ ** _what do we have to do_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ballet vocab in this chapter:   
> piqué turn - piqué means 'to prick.' a piqué turn is where you step onto one leg and attach the other foot to the back of your knee as you turn towards the leg you stepped on (if you step on your right leg, you turn towards your right).   
> manèges - pronounced 'mah-nej,' means 'circular.' basically it's where dancers start in one corner of the stage/space they're dancing in and dance along the perimeter of the space. many different kinds of steps can be used in a manèges, like piqué turns and tombé pas de bourée. 
> 
> not much vocab in this chapter, but hoo boy, there was a whole lot of other stuff that happened. i have a sneaking suspicion that jaemin's gonna be having a hard time with this... newfound disovery
> 
> also please suspend your disbelief for a moment and let me pretend that october is a normal time to start recording tapes for auditions (for the sake of the plot). realistically, auditions for summer intensives, whether in studio or through audition tapes, don't start happening till december/january at the earliest. 
> 
> as always, comments and kudos are appreciated, and i hope wherever you are you have a good day/night!


	5. choreography and the struggle of having a crush

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi i'm back, and with a new chapter, huzzah! hopefully it's worth the weeklong wait - and i hope that i'll be posting more frequently too, every two or three days 
> 
> anyway, enough talk. please enjoy the chapter!

_operation: nomin_

_heejin, u there? **: renjun**_

**_heejin:_ ** _sure am_

_is there anything u can do? **: renjun**_

**_heejin:_ ** _dw, i gotchu_

**_heejin:_ ** _i already have smth planned that coincides perfectly_

~

_CAST LIST (updated! sorry about that – 10)_

_Clara: Heejin Jeon | understudy: Jaemin Na_

_Nutcracker Prince: Jeno Lee | understudy: Renjun Huang_

_Herr Drosselmeyer: Johnny Suh | understudy: Donghyuck Lee_

_Sugar Plum Fairy: Mina Myoui_

_Cavalier: Sicheng Dong_

_Act I: Overture/Dross’ workshop (choreography by Ten Lee)_

_Harlequin Dolls: Yangyang Liu, Felix Lee | understudy: Hyunjin Hwang_

_Ballerina Doll: Chaeryeong Lee | understudy: Ryujin Shin_

_Soldier Doll: Shotaro Osaki | understudy: Jisung Park_

_Act I: Party Scene (choreography by Momo Hirai, Ten Lee)_

_March and Polka: Hyunjin Kim, Yuna Shin, Julia (Lia) Choi, Chaewon Park_

_Parents’ Dance: Momo Hirai, Yuta Nakamoto, Taeyong Lee, Jungwoo Kim, Wheein Jung, Sicheng Dong, Hyejin Ahn, Jaehyun Jung_

_Act I: Fight Scene (choreography by Yuta Nakamoto)_

_Mouse King: Jisung Park | understudy: Yuna Shin_

_Mice: Taehyun Kang, Soobin Choi, Chenle Zhong, Sungchan Jung, Beomgyu Choi, Kai Huening_

_Act I: Snow Scene (choreography by Taeyong Lee)_

_Snowflakes: Yeji Hwang, Hyejoo Son, Jaemin Na, Renjun Huang_

_Icicles: Hyunjin Kim, Yuna Shin, Julia (Lia) Choi, Chaewon Park_

_Act II: Opening of 2 nd Act (choreography by Wheein Jung)_

_Ladies in Waiting: Hyunjin Kim, Yuna Shin, Julia (Lia) Choi, Chaewon Park_

_Angels: Taehyun Kang, Soobin Choi, Chenle Zhong, Sungchan Jung, Beomgyu Choi, Kai Huening_

_Act II: Dances_

_(choreography by Taeyong Lee, Ten Lee, Sicheng Dong, Yuta Nakamoto, Wheein Jung, Jihyo Park)_

_Spanish Chocolate: Chaeryeong Lee, Jaemin Na, Hyunjin Hwang | understudies: Yuna Shin, Sungchan Jung_

_Arabian Coffee: Yangyang Liu, Felix Lee | understudy: Jisung Park_

_Chinese Tea: Renjun Huang, Ryujin Shin, Yeji Hwang | understudy: Beomgyu Choi, Julia (Lia) Choi_

_Russian Dancers: Donghyuck Lee, Shotaro Osaki | understudy: Chenle Zhong_

_Marzipan Flutes: Hyejoo Son, Yerim Choi | understudies: Hyunjin Kim, Chaewon Park_

_Bon-bons: Taehyun Kang, Soobin Choi, Chenle Zhong, Sungchan Jung, Beomgyu Choi, Kai Huening_

_Madame Bon-bon: Jihyo Park_

_Act II: Waltz of the Flowers (choreography by Momo Hirai)_

_Flowers: Donghyuck Lee, Yerim Choi, Hyunjin Hwang, Ryujin Shin_

_Petals: Hyunjin Kim, Yuna Shin, Julia (Lia) Choi, Chaewon Park_

_Act II: Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy – Mina Myoui (choreography by Mina Myoui)_

_Act II: Cavalier Variation – Sicheng Dong (choreography by Sicheng Dong)_

_Act II: Pas de Deux – Clara and Prince (choreography by Ten Lee)_

~

The new and improved cast list is up in time for the next weekend of rehearsals. Renjun gets a few claps on the back for earning the understudy to the Nutcracker Prince, and Hyunjin wails over having to understudy both Yangyang and Felix’s roles as the harlequin dolls at the same time. Felix just gives him a reassuring pat on the back and tells him, “It’s about time you got serious about improving your flexibility.” He does hide behind Jeno after that comment though, fearing Hyunjin’s wrath.

The most surprising casting isn’t even Donghyuck getting to understudy Drosselmeyer, it’s the black letters spelling out _Jaemin Na_ next to the understudy for Clara. Jaemin feels his throat dry up when he reads the cast list, like he’s a desert during a dry spell. He can’t help but hang his head as he turns away from it, heat rising to his cheeks.

It’s embarrassing that he’s the official understudy, especially when the only reason why is that he happened to be in the right place at the right time last Saturday. That shadow of shame follows him through class the day the list gets posted, and he can’t look any of the girls in the eye, not when he has a role that they deserve more than him.

Shame isn’t the only factor in his flushed cheeks and averted gaze. After his realization a few nights ago, Jaemin hasn’t been able to look Jeno in the eyes either, and he decides that he won’t, at least not until he’s come to terms with the fact that he’s crushing on one of his friends. Getting to be Clara’s understudy only makes it more likely that Jaemin will have to face Jeno, will have to dance with him and let his skin burn where Jeno touches it.

Jaemin isn’t religious, but he spends his entire week doing little good deeds – giving away his pencils, swapping seats with people who want to sit with their friends, running a worksheet down to the copier for his history teacher – so that karma will be on his side for rehearsals this weekend.

He learns that karma is dead when he walks into the studio for the second fight scene rehearsal, his first rehearsal as the official understudy. The mice are all there – the tallest, Soobin, Jaemin thinks, is teaching three other mice a K-pop dance, something about dolphins, and Jisung is being forced by Chenle to pick his favorite between him and the last mouse, Sungchan – and so is Jeno, who falls out of a _fouetté_ turn when he sees Jaemin at the door. Yuta’s there too, connecting his phone to the speakers. Renjun, the newly christened Prince understudy, couldn’t make it, but if he were there, Jaemin knows he’d make the experience more bearable.

But Heejin is nowhere to be found.

“Ah, Jaemin! You’re back,” Yuta exclaims, an easy smile on his face. Jaemin gives him a meek wave and steps fully inside the studio. Jeno bounds over to him as he sits down to put on his flat shoes.

“I’m glad you’re here,” is the first thing out of Jeno’s mouth. The words tug at Jaemin’s heart, and he tries to force down the heat spreading in his chest. Jeno, completely unaware of Jaemin’s internal struggle, squats down to the floor and says, “If we started late again, I don’t think all of the mice would make it to the third rehearsal.” Jaemin can hear the grin on Jeno’s face. He doesn’t want to look at him, but because it’s Jeno, he does anyway. Jeno’s smile lights up the room better than the lights hanging from the ceiling.

“Jaemin! Where’s the Nutcracker?” Yuta calls from his station by the speakers.

Jaemin blinks at the choreographer. “Uh, somewhere.” Yuta eyes him reproachfully and shoos him out of the studio to retrieve it from the storage room. When Jaemin lifts the Nutcracker out of the cardboard box, that same feeling of right-ness comes back. The weight of the doll is lopsided, heavier at the head, but he finds it’s easy to carry, to hold it in the crook of his arm. Jaemin catches a smile playing at the corner of his lips. He takes the doll back to the studio.

Yuta makes them run through the choreography from last week once to make sure they all remember it. Jaemin thinks he does an okay job; he remembers where he’s supposed to be, maybe forgets what he’s supposed to do once he gets there. It’s easier than remembering a combination in class, Jaemin attributes that to the unique elements of Yuta’s choreography. He even tries to put a little emotion into his dancing – _The Nutcracker_ is a story ballet, after all. Despite stumbling through a few counts near the chimes, he manages to hold it together, at least until his and Jeno’s partnering moment comes. The second Jeno grabs his hand, lays a hand on his waist, Jaemin’s internal body temperature rises to that of the sun. He can only hope that there’s no evidence of it on his face.

The music jerks to a stop when Yuta presses ‘pause’ on the remote. “That wasn’t too bad, everybody,” he says, clapping his hands together. “I still want that spacing to be more clear, guys. You gotta know where it is and get to it right away. I don’t want you looking for stage markings on the floor during a performance.” The mice bob their heads in acknowledgement.

Yuta then turns to the principals. “Jeno, it was good, but I want more character in your steps. It’s gonna be hard to hear this, but I want you to flex your feet, really give the impression that you’re a doll.” Jeno nods and looks at his feet, holding one off the ground and flexing it to practice. “Jaemin,” Yuta says, “that was great, but remember the _temps levé_ is on five, not seven. Make sure the _balancé_ isn’t too slow.” Then, Yuta scrunches up his eyebrows in confusion. “Do you need some water, Jaemin? You look a little flushed.”

“Really?” Jaemin asks, his voice jumping up an octave. He presses his hands to his cheeks like he doesn’t already know he’s red in the face. “Um, I think I’m fine. Probably just… nervous for, uh, my first rehearsal as the understudy. Officially, you know.”

Yuta squints his eyes at Jaemin like he doesn’t believe him. Jaemin can’t further his argument because there’s a hand on his shoulder, Jeno’s hand, and it practically short-circuits his brain. “You can have some of my water, Jaem,” Jeno says, voice hushed with concern.

Jaemin coughs before responding. “I – I’m fine, Jeno, really.” Jeno gives him one of his ‘not-convinced’ looks, and squeezes Jaemin’s shoulder before dropping his hand. Jaemin lets out a breath of relief at the loss of contact – even though there’s a small part of him that wants Jeno’s hand to stay there, wants Jeno to wrap his whole arm around Jaemin’s shoulders and pull him close to his chest. At the thought, Jaemin’s chest aches and the warmth spreads to his entire body.

Yuta – curse his ever-observant eyes – doesn’t miss the way Jaemin seems to suddenly break out into a sweat. He lays a hand on Jaemin’s shoulder. “I’m going to give the mice the next part of the choreography,” he says, “and _you_ are going to get yourself some water. Got it?” Jaemin just nods, and Yuta turns him away with a light shove.

Jaemin unscrews the cap of Jeno’s water bottle before he takes a sip. Over the rim of the bottle, he watches the others receive their choreography. That’s what he tells himself, at least, because the only person his eyes are on is Jeno. Jaemin knows Jeno’s a good dancer, he’s always known that. Sitting up against the wall of the studio, he can really see Jeno in his element. His focus as Yuta gives the choreo, the short, detached movements he uses to mark the new steps, the way he looks around at the others to figure out how his part meshes with theirs. All of that, Jaemin’s noticed before. He just didn’t know why he did.

_It’s so dumb,_ he thinks, and takes another sip of water. _Can’t even get through rehearsal without being reduced to a flustered mess._ He screws the cap back onto Jeno’s water bottle. _Is it worth it, at that point?_ Jaemin wonders as he pushes himself to standing. He pads back over to Yuta and the other dancers. Jeno grins one of his eye-smile grins, and Jaemin feels his heart trying to break out of his ribcage.

“Better?” Jeno asks, and Jaemin gives a small nod. Yuta appears behind Jeno.

“That’s great, Jaemin,” the choreographer says. “Here, I’ll give you your part.”

Yuta shows him the pathway he’ll use to walk around to the upstage right corner, where he’ll put on a properly shocked face as the mice attack Jeno on Jisung’s command. Then, Yuta tells him to _tombé pas de bourée_ downstage and step into an Italian _pas de chat_ to mimic a kick that scatters the mice.

“Now, Jisung, you grab Jaemin’s right arm and Jeno, you take his left, there you go,” Yuta says, shooing the three principals towards the center marking. Jaemin doesn’t have time to brace himself before Jeno’s hand grips his arm. His fingers curl around Jaemin’s wrist, but he reaches down and taps Jaemin’s palm with the tips of his fingers, and Jaemin’s heart squeezes longingly. _I’m not holding his hand,_ he tells his stubborn heart in an effort to calm it down. His heart, of course, doesn’t listen.

Once Yuta positions them to his liking, he claps his hands. “Okay, this is tug-of-war. I don’t wanna see Jaemin just walking where you guys are pulling him, I want him yanked along like you’re gonna rip his arm off.”

Jaemin widens his eyes, and he whips his head from Jisung to Jeno. “Please don’t rip my arms off,” he begs, and Yuta laughs – more of a cackle, really.

“Don’t worry, Jaemin, you’ll still have both your arms,” he says, still grinning widely, “as long as you match their strength with an appropriate reaction of being pulled in each direction. Some facial expressions would go a long way too.” Yuta checks his notebook and speaks a few counts of music with steps. “I want three steps in each direction, then Jaemin, you’ll _battement_ as high as you can with the leg opposite of the direction you’re being pulled.”

“Can I _plié_ on the _battement?”_ Jaemin asks.

“Sure, yeah, do whatever,” Yuta says. “The _battement_ is basically your momentum for getting pulled in the next direction, so just make sure you’re over your standing leg.” Jaemin nods as Yuta looks back at his notebook again. Jeno’s hand has almost burned off the skin on his wrist, so Yuta better hurry up with this section. “Okay, you’ll go back and forth three times, to Jisung, Jeno, then Jisung again, and then Jaemin, you’re gonna do a _soutenu_ turn – yeah, let’s practice.”

Jisung adjusts his grip on Jaemin’s other arm, and Jaemin blinks at the contact. He forgot that Jisung is also holding onto him, what with Jeno’s grip being the one charring his very flesh. He tries to focus on Jisung’s grip a little more to block out the effect Jeno has on him.

“Jaemin,” Yuta says, and Jaemin snaps to attention. “You step upstage to _soutenu,_ yeah, like that, then bring your arms up – no, Jisung, Jeno, don’t let go yet – and Jaemin, when you’re facing the front again, just throw your arms down like – yeah, good – _now_ you guys can let go.” Yuta smiles at the three principals. “See, how hard was that?”

Jeno offers Yuta a smile because he’s the type to pity-laugh at terrible jokes their friends make. Jaemin looks away as he rubs the skin around his wrist. It still feels warm, like Jeno’s fingers are still holding onto him. He doesn’t know if he finds that comforting or not.

“Right then! From the new part!” Yuta says loudly, clapping his hands once again. It startles Jisung, and Jaemin side-eyes him.

“Jumpy, are we?” he asks, raising one eyebrow.

Jisung groans as they shuffle to their positions from the end of last rehearsal. “Not you, too, Chenle already shits on me enough about that.”

Jaemin laughs as he moves downstage left. “Fair enough.” He barely has time to recognize Jeno next to him before Jeno’s hand is slipping into Jaemin’s. The touch sends a heatwave right through his body, settling in the pit of his stomach. Jaemin internally curses Yuta for putting so much partnering in the scene as Jeno’s other arm snakes around Jaemin’s waist.

“Jisung scared of Yuta?” Jeno asks, trailing off into a giggle right near Jaemin’s ear.

Jaemin smiles, and hopes he doesn’t betray the heat core in his stomach. “Nah, just loud noises.”

Jeno wrinkles his nose as Yuta rewinds the music. “Isn’t he friends with Chenle, though?” His fingers absentmindedly play with the fabric of Jaemin’s shirt, causing Jaemin to suck in a breath. Jeno, even though he’s standing close enough to whisper, doesn’t seem to notice.

Jaemin laughs shakily as he exhales. He tries to be subtle about bringing his hand up and prying his shirt out of Jeno’s fingers, but he thinks Jeno notices because the corners of his mouth droop a little. Jaemin pulls his gaze away and finds Jisung near the rest of the mice, where Chenle is yakking his ear off with no repercussions. “I think he makes an exception for Chenle,” Jaemin says to answer Jeno’s question from before.

Jeno hums as he nods. Yuta calls for them to get ready, and Jeno’s posture straightens out as he gets into character. Jaemin tilts his head from side to side and positions his feet correctly before Yuta counts them in. Almost as soon as the music starts, Jeno lets go of Jaemin and they start their separate choreography. Jaemin tries – he really does – not to mourn the loss of Jeno’s hand in his.

When they get to where they ended, Yuta calls for them to run it again to ‘cement it in their brains,’ he says. Jaemin heads over to the downstage left corner and slides his hand into Jeno’s again. Belatedly, after the music starts again, Jaemin realizes that when Jeno gets into character, when he breathes in a breath as Jeno Lee, but the exhale comes from the Nutcracker Prince, his hold on Jaemin doesn’t change. The Prince is just as gentle and warm and comforting as Jaemin’s Jeno, and Jaemin doesn’t know what to think about that.

He does know that it shouldn’t make his chest squeeze and his heart smile with delight.

~

October bleeds into November. Jaemin barely notices the change of months, not with the weight of learning all his choreography and teaching Heejin Clara’s part in every spare moment. They’re lucky Heejin’s a fast learner, and luckier still that Jaemin is able to retain Clara’s choreo on top of his own.

As it is, Heejin makes it to a grand total of three rehearsals before the full-run rehearsals with the entire cast. Two of those were rehearsals for the _pas de deux_ , and the other was for the first snow scene rehearsal. Jaemin finds it kind of amazing that Heejin still has her role after missing so many rehearsals. One chilly Saturday November evening where Jaemin’s teaching Heejin her flowers choreography and his brain-to-mouth filter is malfunctioning, he asks her how she does it.

Heejin laughs when he asks, coming down from an _arabesque_ balance. “I’ve been wondering when you’d ask that,” she says, smile playing on her lips. Jaemin furrows his eyebrows, and Heejin wipes a line of sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand before continuing. “Don’t pretend like you weren’t curious, I know it’s not conventional to miss so many rehearsals. But basically, on the weekends, Moonbyul helps me prep for auditions. For summer intensives. Coincidentally, most of that prep time falls during rehearsal.”

Jaemin raises an eyebrow. “Isn’t it a bit early to start thinking about the summer?” Retail stores haven’t even started playing holiday music, and Heejin’s got her sights set on summer dance?

Heejin just shakes her head. “Not with where I wanna go. With where I wanna go…” she trails off and pushes over her box while she collects her thoughts. “You have to want it more than anything. _And_ you have to be good enough to get accepted.”

“Where…?” Jaemin starts, not really confident enough to ask the whole question. He doesn’t know if he should, if he’s overstepping.

Luckily, Heejin deems Jaemin someone she can share this with. “Joffrey, San Francisco, probably ABT or PNB. And some more after that, but none of that will matter if I don’t get into any of ‘em.” Her voice is small by the end, and Jaemin tries to piece together something that will comfort her.

“Even if you don’t get into any of those places, the ones where you have to be, like, as good as an eleven-year-old Russian,” he begins, pausing when Heejin cracks a smile, “you’re still gonna go places. Because you want to go places, and wanting is the start of any dream, isn’t it?” It’s not his best advice – it isn’t even advice, it’s a cheesy consolation – but it seems to lift something off Heejin’s shoulders. She stands up a little taller, and her smile comes easily.

“Thanks, Jaemin,” she says, barely loud enough to hear. Her eyes go from Jaemin’s to her phone on the floor, forgotten after they paused the music. She swipes it off the ground and unlocks it, scrubbing through the waltz of the flowers. Then, she looks up at Jaemin, head tilted to the side, and says, “It must be hard, learning all this choreo and not getting to perform it.”

“Isn’t that what an understudy is supposed to do?” Jaemin asks. That’s what he’s done for years, learning choreo on the sides of the studio from the dancers who actually have the role. It gets a little monotonous year after year, and it’s not very rewarding, but Jaemin’s gotten used to it.

Heejin sighs, like Jaemin’s completely missing the point. He probably is, but he’s not going to bother trying to figure it out because he knows she’s going to tell him anyway. “Yes, understudies learn choreo in case the first cast can’t perform, but that, like, never happens.” She bends down to tuck one of her ribbons back in, then fixes Jaemin with a soft look in her eyes. “But it’s different for you, because you’re the one at rehearsal and you’re the one teaching me the choreo instead of the other way around.”

There’s hurt in her eyes, guilt, Jaemin realizes, and his chest tightens. “Hey, if you can’t be there, then that’s not something you can control,” he tells her. “I’m your understudy, it’s my job to make sure you know where to be so you don’t get bowled over by a mouse or something.”

That, at least, makes Heejin smile wearily. “I’d probably fall on my ass if one of ‘em bumped into me,” she says, “’cause they’re all so tall.”

“Freakishly tall,” Jaemin agrees, even though he’s about the same height as some of them. “But I’m here to make sure you don’t fall on your ass and embarrass yourself onstage. And that’s exactly what I’m gonna do, got it?”

Heejin grins, the corners of her mouth quirking up. “Got it.”

Even though Jaemin knows that Heejin can’t make it to all the rehearsals, he still feels a small burn of resentment towards her. It doesn’t happen often, just once when he can’t remember the Spanish choreography Taeyong taught them last week because he had understudied at three rehearsals since the last time they practiced.

Forgetting the choreography makes Jaemin feel empty, hollow. While Taeyong hooks up his phone to the speakers, he can’t do anything but stand at the edge of the studio, eyes fixed on one of the tape markings on the marley floor. He clenches his hands into fists, then lets his fingers uncurl slowly, as if that would help him remember. The heels of his hands press on his eyes. He can remember the way Jeno held his hand gently during the opening of 2nd act rehearsal, and he can remember the sequence of steps that lead him to Jeno during fight scene, but he can’t for the life of him remember the Spanish choreography.

There’s a light tap on his shoulder, and Jaemin tears his gaze from the floor. It’s Hyunjin, and he looks concerned. For Jaemin. “You good?”

Jaemin shakes his head to clear his thoughts, then nods his head in response. “Yeah. I mean, no, but – ” he starts, stutters to a stop. Hyunjin tilts his head but doesn’t say anything. Jaemin breathes out heavily, then sucks another breath in. “I can’t remember the choreo.” Admitting it doesn’t fill that emptiness, doesn’t magically make him remember, but at least he’ll get help now. Hyunjin lays a hand on Jaemin’s shoulder and squeezes, a small gesture of support. Jaemin nearly crumbles under its weight.

Hyunjin opens his mouth to speak, but gets cut off by Taeyong turning towards them and announcing, “From the top!” Chaeryeong’s already in place in the tape-marked wings, and she’s making little swishing motions with the layered skirt. When she sees them still standing at the side of the studio, she beckons to them frantically. In Jaemin’s eyes, her urgency isn’t conveyed properly. His mind is too focused on the dread slicing through his chest to process anything else.

When Jaemin doesn’t make a move to get into place, Hyunjin lets out a sigh and drags Jaemin to his starting position behind Chaeryeong. “Just try to follow me,” he whispers. “That’ll have to do.” Jaemin purses his lips, but nods slowly as Hyunjin steps in front of Chaeryeong. It’s weird, Jaemin thinks, being the one taken care of by his friends for once. Not a month ago, Jaemin helped Hyunjin clean up his water spill after the auditions, and now Hyunjin’s saving his ass in rehearsal.

Something pulls at his stomach, but he doesn’t have time to process it before Taeyong presses ‘play’ and the brass instrumental of the Spanish dance fills the studio. Hyunjin steps out first, then Chaeryeong, then Jaemin. He does his best to follow Hyunjin, mirroring when it seems appropriate and stepping into the _manèges_ section only a second late. It’s during the part where Jaemin has a solo moment, a chance to shine and show the audience his true character that Hyunjin can’t help him. So for those eight counts and then some, Jaemin stands still, and shame pools in the pit of his stomach.

The guilt is only amplified by the look Taeyong gives him when the music finishes. It’s reproachful, as it should be, but pity radiates off the choreographer in waves, and Jaemin knows it’s all for him. He tries not to hang his head as Taeyong gives them feedback on the first run-through.

“Hyunjin, I liked your flair with the hands,” Taeyong says, “but make sure not to do any weird gestures, okay?” And because Hyunjin’s an ironic little shit, he holds up his hand with the ‘okay’ sign. It makes Taeyong laugh, at least. Then he turns to Jaemin, and the grin slowly but surely slides off his face. “I’m gonna assume this was a one-off, but only because I don’t have the heart to chew you out, nor do I think I’m the right person to do that.” Jaemin just nods. _I think I can handle being harsh on myself on my own, thanks._ “But,” Taeyong continues, “I am gonna tell you that there are things that you should prioritize over others. I think your roles in the first cast should be one of them.”

Jaemin nods again, and he swallows the lump in his throat so he can speak. “Yeah, that – that makes sense,” he agrees. ‘I’m sorry’ is on the tip of his tongue, but he doesn’t think Taeyong would accept it. It’s not Taeyong he needs to apologize to, anyway.

“Right,” Taeyong breathes. He claps his hands together. “We’ll catch Jaemin up real quick, and then get to polishing that ending.”

After rehearsal, Jaemin comes home and traipses upstairs to his room like usual. He deposits his bag on the floor and pulls out his phone. On the way downstairs, he searches up _the Nutcracker_ soundtrack and scrolls through until he finds the Spanish music. He yanks open the door to the basement because even though it’s cold as hell, it’s the only space in his house empty enough to practice where won’t knock over a lamp or anything.

It becomes routine; Jaemin runs through all the choreography he’s learned when he gets home from every rehearsal. Sure, his bones and muscles protest every time he drags himself out to the basement, but it’s something he has to do. He won’t be the boy in over his head as Clara’s understudy again.

~

The snow scene is one of Jaemin’s favorites. It has this whimsical, magical quality, solidifying it as the path between the real world and the Land of the Sweets.

Unfortunately, the music is in six-eight, and because everything else Jaemin dances to is in four-four, it’s hard to count.

The music jolts to a stop, and Jaemin whips his head to the front of the room to see Taeyong standing with his arm outstretched, remote pointing towards the sound system. He drops his arm and rubs his temple. “You guys are too slow, you’re stretching it out,” he says, voice strained. It’s not the first time he’s said this. “You’ve only got six counts per phrase, not eight. You can’t be waiting for those extra two counts when they’re not there.”

The other snowflakes nod solemnly. Jaemin catches Renjun’s eye across the tape-marked stage. Renjun just sighs and offers a weak shrug.

“From the second la-las, let’s go,” Taeyong says, and Jaemin shuffles to his place downstage. After a few moments, the music plays, and Jaemin jumps into action.

_Balancé, balancé, piqué, sous-sous. Temps levé, passé, step, pas de chat._ The choir in the music soon drowns out Jaemin’s inner monologue detailing all the steps, so he abandons that and relies on his muscle memory. They don’t practice for hours for these steps not to be ingrained into his bones by now.

The la-las come to an end, and the string melody picks up again. Just a few phrases away is the section they keep messing up on, where Jaemin and Yeji hold for too long and Renjun and Hyejoo stumble over their moment in center.

_Five, two, three, four, FIVE,_ Jaemin counts, and comes down from _sous-sous_ on the six. Yeji’s close behind him, and they run to join up with Renjun and Hyejoo in a line. They link arms and come downstage with _glissades_ and _temps levés_. The choreo is reminiscent of the Four Little Swans variation, and Jaemin can’t help but smile as he does it. They’ve made it past the part they got stuck on before, they’re dancing together, almost in sync, and they’ll finish it out up until the point where Taeyong had stopped choreographing and –

Jaemin trips over his feet, falling out of an _arabesque_. The music stops with him, but he can register the confused look Renjun has on his face. That thought gets shoved to the back of his mind, though, when he glances back at the door of the studio.

Three someones are standing on the threshold. One of them is clapping, that’s Ten. He smiles as his applause rings throughout the studio, then laughs when Taeyong does a mock bow in his direction.

Another person sits down to tie her pointe shoe ribbons, that’s Heejin. She offers a grin in Jaemin’s direction, and he smiles back, hoping it doesn’t look too forced.

The last person is already looking at Jaemin when he makes eye contact. That’s Jeno. His smile is soft, it doesn’t quite reach his eyes, but the second Jaemin looks at him, he can feel the pride coming off him in waves. After a few seconds, it becomes too much for Jaemin to handle, and he tears his eyes away. It’s like ripping off a band-aid. It hurts, but he has to do it.

Taeyong claps his hands, and everyone’s attention turns to him. “Hey, flakes, what do you think about doing one last run-through with an audience?” He’s grinning widely, and Ten’s clapping in agreement. Heejin nods enthusiastically from her spot on the floor, and Jeno smiles, taking a seat next to her. “Well then,” Taeyong says, “from the top!”

Jaemin expels a breath and pads to the stage left wing. Yeji lines up behind him, and the half the icicles are huddled in wing three next to them, but Jaemin can’t shake the weight of Jeno’s stare. He wordlessly begs Jeno to look away, watch Renjun, maybe, just so he can make it through this last run without messing up.

When the music starts, Jaemin looks up from the floor. Jeno’s eyes are on him, and he resigns himself to dancing with the heavy weight of warmth pooling in his stomach and his heart jumping into his throat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ballet vocab used in this chapter:  
> temps levé - means 'time held' (pronounced 'tawn luh-vey). it's a jump on one foot with your other leg extended out behind you in an arabesque.   
> balancé - means 'to sway.' it's done standing on one leg with your foot behind you, then you step on that foot and point the foot of your previous standing leg, then step back down onto the original standing leg.   
> tombé pas de bourée - tombé means 'to fall' and pas de bourée means 'step that runs.' basically you 'fall' onto one leg (you just bend it) with your other leg extended, then bring that extended leg to the leg you fell on and close to fifth position, then open to first position, then close again to fifth with the other foot in front. that's all on relevé, or half-toe.   
> Italian pas de chat - pas de chat means 'step of the cat.' an Italian pas de chat is where you basically extend one leg in like a kick with your other leg folded in, then you land in fifth position.   
> battement - pronounced 'baht-ma.' in this case, Yuta is shortening grand battement to battement, which just means 'beating.' a grand battement is a kick that you do with straight legs, pushing against the floor to send your leg up as high as you can.   
> plié - means 'to bend.'   
> soutenu - means 'to suspend or sustain.' it's a turn usually done in fifth position where you change the foot that you have in front while staying on relevé. fifth position has one foot crossed in front of the other, so this turn is used a lot to change sides in combinations.  
> pas de deux - dance for two  
> arabesque - one leg is extended into the air behind you  
> manèges - pronounced 'mah-nej' and means 'circular.' it's where dancers move around the edge of the space in a circle, usually with turns.   
> piqué - means 'to prick.' in context of the chapter, it's a turn where you step onto one leg and turn towards that side.   
> sous-sous - pronounced 'soo-soo' and means 'over-under.' it is a relevé or a rise to half toe in fifth position.   
> passé - means 'to pass.' in context of this chapter, it is a jump where one leg is bent and the foot touches below the knee of the opposite leg (if you're more flexible, your foot can touch above the knee, but it's required to at least be below the kneecap).   
> glissade - pronounced 'gli-sahd,' means 'to glide.' start in fifth position, and one of your legs slides out and you push off your other leg, then you land on the leg you slid out first and close the other leg to fifth position. it's a jump that you can close to fifth position in various ways. 
> 
> oh my god so much vocab. i think from now on if i've explained a word before, i'll try to keep the definition brief so you don't get exhausted/overwhelmed reading the notes. i also mentioned the Four Little Swans variation from Swan Lake, which is such a fun variation to do and watch, so here's a link if you feel like watching some ballet: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b9viv_A60Mk
> 
> as always, comments/kudos are appreciated, and i hope you have a fantastic day/night!


	6. platinum blond and the inconvenience of loving your best friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> consistency? what's that? who's she? no but i'm sorry about not updating as often as i said, hopefully the chapter is worth the wait.
> 
> so without further ado, chapter six everybody! enjoy!

Two weeks before opening night, Moonbyul holds Jaemin, Felix, Yeji and Ryujin after class.

“Look, you guys know I’m all for freedom of expression, right,” she starts, “but for the sake of the stage lighting and to make sure the costumes look good, I have to ask you to dye your hair a natural color by dress rehearsal.”

“Wait,” Felix pipes up, “why does Hyunjin get to keep his hair color?” His lower lip juts out a little and it takes all Jaemin’s self-control to not roll his eyes because Felix is pouting at the director of Eclipse Ballet School.

Moonbyul closes her eyes and sighs. “Because his blond is a natural blond,” she says, her eyes opening slowly as if to check to make sure Felix isn’t pouting anymore. “And it really sucks ‘cause y’all are killing it with the platinum blond, but for the sake of the show – ” She holds her hands up in the air and shrugs in a ‘what-can-you-do’ kind of gesture.

Felix’s shoulders slump a considerable amount and he starts muttering about how he’s not even sure what his natural hair color is anymore, that’s how long he’s had his hair dyed, but Jaemin can’t bring himself to tune into the conversation. His focus, inevitably, goes to Jeno as he tackles Donghyuck in a sweaty hug. Donghyuck shrieks, but Jeno just smiles wider. There’s still sweat dripping down the back of his neck from class, and his hair is slicked back from when he pushed it out of his face after the _révérence._

Jeno’s hair suits him, Jaemin knows this much. He’s got this nice undercut with the floppy part on top not being too long or too short. His hair is a brown color that’s just so perfectly _Jeno;_ it makes you feel at home, just like Jeno does.

Once, in their sophomore year, Jeno showed up to school with his hair bleached completely blond. Jaemin would be lying if he said it didn’t look good. In fact, it looked _great,_ at least until Jeno’s roots started showing and he went natural again. Jaemin remembers not being able to look Jeno in the eye for a couple days until he got used to his new hairstyle. It’s not that Jeno looked more intimidating with dyed hair – although Felix admitted that Jeno did – but the change just felt so abrupt, like Jaemin’s home was getting displaced in an earthquake of bleach.

For a split second, Jaemin’s mind projects the image of Jeno with bleach-blond hair onto Jeno drinking water with his head tilted back. The image is so strong, it slaps him in the face and leaves his throat dry. His face as hot as the surface of the sun, he turns back to the other platinum blonds as Moonbyul dismisses them.

Felix falls into step next to Jaemin as they collect their stuff from the side of the studio. He nudges Jaemin with his elbow, and Jaemin looks up at him from piling his track pants and giant fluffy sweater into his arms. “You good, dude?” Felix looks genuinely concerned, and Jaemin figures it’s because his face is way more flushed than normal, even after a difficult class.

“Yeah, of course,” Jaemin says, looping one finger under the handle of his water bottle. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Felix just shrugs. “I dunno, you just seem more… subdued? That’s probably not the right word,” he trails off, eyebrows furrowed. He stares at the floor for a good few seconds before snapping his head back up. “It isn’t about having to dye your hair back to natural, is it? I mean, I’m disappointed too, but like, you have my word and probably everyone else’s that you’d look hot with any hair color, if that’s any consolation.”

Jaemin breaks out into a grin and barks a laugh. This compliment is more lighthearted than anything, and though that doesn’t mean it’s not genuine, it doesn’t make the black curl snake up Jaemin’s throat. He shakes his head and says, “I mean, thank you, I guess, but that’s… that’s not it, Felix. I’m fine, really.”

“That’s what they all say,” Felix mumbles, lowering his voice to an impressive depth.

“Okay, now that’s just creepy,” Jaemin says.

“What’s creepy?” An arm slings itself over Jaemin’s shoulder and Jaemin nearly buckles under the sudden weight. If it were anyone else, Jaemin would throw them off and give a lecture about hygiene just to spite them, but he doesn’t do any of that. Because it’s Jeno slinging his arm over Jaemin’s shoulders, and Jaemin doesn’t think he can refuse Jeno anything.

“This,” Felix says, voice still Mariana Trench-level deep. Jeno shivers, and Felix breaks out into a smile that completely contrasts his voice. “Anyway,” he says, voice back to his speaking tone, “I gotta bounce. Hair dye, here we come.” Jaemin looks over his shoulder as Felix leaves, Theraband trailing behind him.

“Hair dye?” Jeno asks. Now, without Felix to divert any of Jaemin’s attention, he’s having a sensory overload with Jeno this close. Jeno’s arm is warm through Jaemin’s shirt, his breath tickles Jaemin’s neck and his nose is less than a foot from Jaemin’s. Every bone in Jaemin’s body protests as he shimmies out from under Jeno’s arm. If Jeno’s hurt by it, he doesn’t show it on his face, just follows Jaemin out of the studio.

“Yeah, about the hair dye,” Jaemin says, “Moonbyul’s making us go back to natural colors for the performance. Says it messes with the lighting, or whatever.” He wrinkles his nose at that.

Jeno laughs, probably at Jaemin’s nose-scrunch. “I mean, at least she’s got a good reason,” he says. “Usually, infringing upon student’s right to freedom of expression would be greatly frowned upon in this day and age.”

“Yeah, it would,” Jaemin agrees, reaching out to open the door to the boys’ changing room. Once they’re inside, the sound of all the advanced boys chattering at the same time fills the space for conversation. Jaemin’s okay with that, he doesn’t need to talk all the time. He’d rather let others fill up the empty space, like Yangyang with his crazy stories, or Donghyuck with his jokes, or Hyunjin with his bank of gossip-esque information.

As he’s pulling on his street shoes, he catches sight of Jeno’s hair flopping into his face. Jaemin pictures him blond again, and it’s such a shock that he has to take a small sip of water. As he slips his sweater over his head, he realizes it’s a little embarrassing that something as simple as a hair color can make him flustered. He thinks back to how he couldn’t look at Jeno properly those first few days after he went blond sophomore year, and how it was just the slightest bit harder to breathe when Jeno looked at him.

On the other side of the dressing room, Jeno meets Jaemin’s eyes, and smiles a soft smile. It sends Jaemin’s heart into cartwheels and Jaemin can barely hold himself together to return it. It’s as he’s walking out of the building, Jeno right by his side, that he wonders if maybe, just maybe, the feelings swirling around in his ribcage aren’t as new and unfamiliar as he makes them out to be.

~

With Heejin being absent from so many rehearsals, Jaemin’s become somewhat numb to the warmth that thrums under his skin when he dances with Jeno. He tries to channel that feeling, that energy, into his dancing, going all out in one particular flowers rehearsal and pulling off at least three consistent triple _fouetté_ turns. As he leaves the stage during his exit, Jaemin thinks he sees the faintest of grins on the flowers choreographer Momo’s face.

In late November during the last fight scene rehearsal before the full-run, Jaemin makes it through the entire piece without heat rising to his cheeks, with the normal tingle Jeno’s touch leaves on his skin reduced to a mere jolt when Jeno first touches him. It’s a small discovery, but it washes over Jaemin in relief. It’s one step closer to things getting back to normal.

“Okay guys, one last run-through, and you can go home!” Yuta shouts from his spot by the speakers. Everyone downs one last gulp of water before hurrying back to their positions in the wings. Jaemin wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and pushes himself off the floor.

Jeno falls into step next to him. “What’re you doing after rehearsal tonight?” he asks, and nudges Jaemin with his elbow. Jaemin clutches his side and doubles over, pretending to limp the rest of the way to the wing. Jeno scoffs and reaches out to tickle him, and Jaemin jerks away from that faster than he reacted to being elbowed.

“Rude, using my weakness against me,” Jaemin says, giving Jeno a well-meaning glare. Jeno just shrugs sheepishly, and Jaemin rolls his eyes as he picks up the Nutcracker. “Anyway, I probably won’t be doing much after this, just binging the Umbrella Academy into the late hours of the night. Why, what were you thinking?”

“Well,” Jeno says, and if Jaemin’s not mistaken, he sounds almost shy. “I was wondering if you wanted to sleep over tonight. We haven’t had the time to do that in forever, you know, with everything going on.” Jaemin turns the idea over in his head, and Jeno’s right. Besides Nutcracker rehearsals, there’s also college apps and normal schoolwork taking time out of their day. If Jaemin remembers correctly – which he does because it concerns Jeno – the last time he’d been over to Jeno’s house was during the summer.

And it’s because the warmth didn’t flood through Jaemin’s body during rehearsal like it used to that Jaemin says yes, and it’s only after Jeno grins at him with that lovely eye-smile of his that Jaemin realizes what he’s done.

_What’s there to worry about?_ Jaemin thinks, placing the Nutcracker on center-center. _It’s just a sleepover with my best friend._ He gets into place behind the wing marking as Yuta starts the music. Across the stage in the other tape-wing, Jeno meets his eyes and smiles. Jaemin’s heart does a thing, a flip, a whole gymnastics routine. It’s really too easily excited.

Later, curled up on Jeno’s couch under a fluffy blanket with an equally fluffy cat in his arms, Jaemin tries to argue for his movie pick, _Megamind._ “It’s a perfect twist on the classic superhero concept!” he protests. “And there’s a wholesome love story to boot! What more could you possibly ask for?”

“Uh, dragons, obviously,” Jeno counters, scrolling through the movie queue. The cursor lands on _How to Train Your Dragon,_ and Jaemin groans. Honestly, with how hyped Jeno was when the sequel came out and the amount of fantasy books littering the bookshelves in his bedroom, Jaemin should’ve seen this coming. Jeno may not look like one at first glance, but under his chill demeanor and adorable eye-smile, he’s the biggest nerd Jaemin’s ever met.

“C’mon, Jaem, there’s all that love story stuff in here, _plus_ a heart-warming theme about family and community, _and,_ ” Jeno drags the last word out as he leans closer. Jaemin internally thanks Bongshik for acting as a barrier between him and Jeno. “Like I said before, dragons. Is the decision really that hard to make?” He raises one eyebrow and stares Jaemin down, daring him to make a case for _Megamind._ Jaemin’s formulating a rebuttal in his head, but the start of it falls to pieces under Jeno’s gaze. Realistically, Jaemin knows Jeno’s only trying to intimidate him into picking his movie choice, but with Jeno looking at him with the beginnings of a smile on his lips, Jaemin can’t help but think there’s something more to the look Jeno’s giving him.

_That’s just you projecting your feelings onto your innocent friend, you lovestruck fool._ The moment the thought comes, Jaemin’s struck with shame. Here he is, sitting in his best friend’s house with his best friend’s cat on his lap getting ready to watch a movie with his best friend, and all he can think about is his crush? _Some friend I am,_ Jaemin internally chastises himself.

He sighs heavily and pulls his eyes away from Jeno’s. He can’t bring himself to look at him while shame still eats away at his insides. “I guess watching dragons wouldn’t be too bad,” he concedes, dragging his hand over Bongshik’s soft fur. _It’s not like I’d be able to say no to you, anyway._

Jeno lets out a tiny whoop of victory before clicking ‘play’ and reaching over to turn off the lights in the living room. “I knew you’d accept defeat eventually,” he says. The blanket shifts around Jaemin’s legs, disturbing Bongshik, and Jeno scoots as close to Jaemin as humanly possible, even though there’s plenty of couch for both of them to have their own space.

“Don’t you want to stretch your legs out?” Jaemin asks. He’s trying to stay calm, even though Jeno’s arm is pressing up against his and Jeno’s hair smells like the shampoo he uses and the collar of Jeno’s sleepshirt is a little stretched out and – well, Jaemin tries to stay calm, he does.

Jeno turns to him and – _oh, his face is really close_ – gives Jaemin a look. “There’s one blanket that isn’t very big, and you want me to go sit somewhere else?” he asks, eyebrow raised, a slight smirk just waiting to appear. Jaemin opens his mouth to say something, but he doesn’t really have anything to say to that. He snaps his mouth shut and tears his eyes away from Jeno to look at Bongshik. Even though he’s not looking at him, Jaemin can tell Jeno’s rolling his eyes. “If I didn’t know any better, Jaem, I’d think you were trying to get rid of me.”

“I would never,” Jaemin says. He means for it to sound like a joking retort, but his feelings – curse them, those fuckers – find their way into his vocal chords and mess up his tone of voice. Jaemin’s just glad he’s not looking at Jeno when he said those words with sincerity usually reserved for ‘I love you.’

“Well,” Jeno says, “that’s good to hear.” He reaches over Jaemin to tuck in the blanket properly, and Jaemin tries not to let his heart break out of his chest. Jeno gives Bongshik a little scratch behind the ears before the opening theme of _How to Train Your Dragon_ blasts through the TV speakers. “Did you know,” Jeno whispers, leaning a little closer to Jaemin so he can hear over the movie, “that the music in the opening scene has all the themes of the characters in it?” Jaemin shakes his head, just barely though, so he doesn’t hit Jeno’s head with his own. “I watched a theory video about it the other day, and I kept thinking about it and I wanted to show you.”

At the small confession and Jeno’s words ghosting over his skin, warmth starts to spread out over his chest. “It’s – that’s really cool,” Jaemin stutters. Onscreen, the people of Berk have started their attack on the dragons. Offscreen and wrapped up in a blanket with Jeno, Jaemin’s floundering for words. And with how much his heart is trying to sneak through his ribcage, Jaemin doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to find the right ones. It’s almost like that night Jeno told him he was enough just being himself: coming from anyone else, Jaemin would brush the words off without a second thought. But because his heart wants to belong to Jeno and Jeno alone, the fact that Jeno waited to show Jaemin something he thought was interesting is almost enough to make Jaemin melt.

But Jaemin stays in solid form for the rest of the movie because, moments after Hiccup shoots down Toothless, Jeno rests his chin on Jaemin’s shoulder.

When the movie’s over and Jeno stops gushing about how cute Toothless is, they drag their feet upstairs to Jeno’s room. The obligatory fight about who sleeps on the floor with the sleeping bag doesn’t last long because Jaemin’s too tired to care and ends up flopping down on the blow-up mattress pad the moment he steps foot in Jeno’s room.

“At least get inside the sleeping bag, why don’t you,” Jeno scoffs from the doorway. Jaemin responds with a firm grunt, and Jeno sighs. “Okay, okay, fine. You don’t _have_ to get in the sleeping bag,” he says, crawling into his bed, “but it would make your sleeping experience all the more enjoyable.” Jaemin narrows his eyes at Jeno, who just holds his hands up in surrender, and flicks off the light on his bedside table.

With the darkness partially obscuring himself from view, Jaemin kicks into the sleeping bag and readjusts the pillow Jeno gave him so he’s facing Jeno’s bed. _Is it weird that I want to fall asleep looking at him?_ Jaemin wonders. _It’s a little weird,_ the sensible part of Jaemin’s brain responds, and Jaemin sighs in defeat.

“Whatcha thinking about?” Jeno asks, probably chalking Jaemin’s sigh up to stress. It’s a fair assumption, and it’s also kind of true, but Jaemin’s not about to admit that. “Are you on Clara duty for snow tomorrow?”

Jaemin rolls over onto his back. Jeno’s ceiling isn’t all that interesting, not since he took down the solar system model summer after eighth grade. “Yeah,” he finally says. “And for the party scene since that’s all getting choreographed tomorrow.”

“Heejin’s not gonna be there for the party scene stuff?” Jeno asks. There’s a shifting of comforters, and Jaemin knows Jeno’s rolled over to face him. “Isn’t that, like, everything in Act One minus dolls, snow, and fight scene?”

“And the parent’s dance, but that’s getting choreographed tomorrow too,” Jaemin says. “Heejin told me she’s working on a variation tomorrow for one of her auditions.” He holds one hand out in front of him and plays with his fingers, bending them back and forth.

“What variation?”

“Kitri, from the third act of Don Quixote,” Jaemin supplies. “She told me Moonbyul’s gonna be helping her perfect the fan work.”

“That’s… cool,” Jeno says. He hesitates, and that’s all Jaemin needs to know to tell that Jeno’s not exactly pleased. He turns his head and meets Jeno’s eyes in the dark. They’re reflecting the little bit of light coming in through the window, making it seem like they’re sparkling.

Jaemin lies his head on his arm and lets a lazy grin come to his lips. “You don’t sound entirely convinced about that.”

“It’s not that I think it’s not cool,” Jeno clarifies, “it’s just, I dunno, strange that she’s missing all this rehearsal. She’s only been to, like, a total of three so far.”

“You think she shouldn’t have the role?”

“No! Just…” Jeno trails off and a sigh falls out of his mouth. “Maybe you shouldn’t be just the understudy anymore, is all I’m saying.”

There’s a moment of silence where Jaemin waits for Jeno to say, “Sike!” or anything, really, to admit what he just said is a joke. That moment passes and Jeno doesn’t say anything, so Jaemin takes it upon himself to laugh. “That was a good one, Jen,” he says after taking a breath. He keeps laughing, giggling, really, but Jeno stays silent. He blinks at Jaemin in the dark as Jaemin’s laughter comes to a stop. “You’re serious?” Jaemin asks, his voice small.

Jeno nods as best he can with his face mushed up against his pillow. “I wouldn’t lie to you about that,” he says simply.

“But – but,” Jaemin sputters, scrambling for words, excuses. “I’m nowhere near as good as Heejin, even if you take her off pointe. She’s crafted her future around ballet, and she knows exactly where she wants to go and how to get there. Me, on the other hand, I’ve made ballet my life too, we all have: six classes a week plus rehearsal plus cross-training. I’ve done everything I can to make this all worth it but I’m still just…” he pauses, finally realizing the weight of the words he’s spilled into Jeno’s bedroom. One glance up at Jeno and he can tell he’s taken it too far.

Of course, Jeno doesn’t let him stop there. “You’re still just what, Jaem?” His voice is so gentle, so tender, and Jaemin knows he might break again.

With every blink, his eyelashes clump together as they get wet. Jaemin breathes in through his nose, sniffles, more like, and lets out a shaky breath. “Me,” he chokes out. “Just – just me.” He squeezes his eyes shut and tries to cry silently. Because he’s horizontal, tears fall over the bridge of his nose and slide down the side of his face near his ear. It’s uncomfortable, but Jaemin lets himself cry anyway.

He feels fingers brush his shoulder, feather-light, and he opens one eye. Jeno’s there, kneeling next to the blow-up mattress pad, a small smile on his face. He’s not smiling nearly enough to bring out the eye-smile, and that hits Jaemin with a pang because _I’m the reason he’s not smiling like he always does._ The thought makes Jaemin want to curl into a ball and hide, but Jeno won’t let him do that.

“And what did I say about being yourself, huh?” Jeno prompts, his hand rubbing from Jaemin’s shoulder to his back.

Jaemin sniffles. “It’s enough,” he whispers, voice hoarse from crying.

“That’s absolutely right,” Jeno says, “and don’t you forget it.” His hand changes direction in the middle of Jaemin’s back and trails up his neck, stopping once his fingers reach the hair at his nape. He lifts up his hand, and then Jeno’s fingers are carding gently, slowly through Jaemin’s hair. And because Jaemin’s exhausted and emotionally drained and Jeno’s fingers in his hair just feel so _nice,_ his eyes flutter shut as Jeno massages his scalp.

After a few moments, Jeno says softly, “You do that a lot, you know.” Jaemin’s not sure if he’s supposed to respond. He can’t open his eyes, not with Jeno’s fingers running through his hair, so he hums lightly. Jeno chuckles, probably at the contented smile spreading across Jaemin’s face, and continues. “You’re always the first person on site to help our friends, or be their cheerleader, but the second a compliment makes its way to you, you’re denying it.”

The longer Jeno talks, the harder Jaemin finds it to stay awake. He knows what Jeno’s saying is important, and also very true, but it’s hard to stay away from the dreamworld when Jeno’s giving him the best lullaby he’s had in a while.

Jeno seems to realize Jaemin’s state of consciousness is fading too, and maybe that’s why his fingers stop carding through Jaemin’s hair and his hand comes to rest just below Jaemin’s jaw. “I don’t know if you deny those compliments because you’re just being humble, but judging by what you said a few minutes ago, I don’t think that’s the case.” Jeno’s thumb swipes ever so slightly over his cheek. A red warning light goes off in Jaemin’s head, but he’s too tired to process what it means, or do anything about it. With his eyes closed and mood satiated, all Jaemin can think about is Jeno’s voice getting closer to his ear. “Even if you don’t believe in yourself, Jaem, just know that I always will.” Then after a beat, “And all our friends will, too.”

Then, everything goes silent, and Jeno’s hand slips away. Where Jaemin’s skin was warm under Jeno’s touch, he shivers against the cold air. On impulse, Jaemin’s hand shoots out and connects with Jeno. When Jaemin opens his eyes, Jeno’s looking at him strangely, probably wondering why Jaemin doesn’t want him to go back to bed.

“Just… thank you. For all that,” Jaemin croaks. His hand falls away from Jeno’s arm and he pulls the sleeping bag up over his shoulder.

Jeno smiles, and this time, it’s closer to the eye-smile than before. “Anytime, Jaem,” he says, and reaches back to squeeze Jaemin’s hand. The touch sends a warm jolt up Jaemin’s arm and goes straight to his heart, which starts jumping in excitement behind his ribs. As Jeno crawls back under his bedcovers, Jaemin’s hand falls away from his arm. He pulls the sleeping bag up over his shoulder. Jeno says, “Goodnight,” softly as Jaemin blinks up at him from the mattress pad.

“Night, Jeno,” Jaemin whispers back, and rolls over because he doesn’t think he can look at his best friend for another second while his heart beats away in his chest. The sleeping bag isn’t thick, but Jaemin’s burning alive inside of it. _I don’t know how much longer I can do this,_ Jaemin thinks, curling in on himself. _I can’t be a best friend to someone I want to kiss all the time._

In the morning, Jaemin blinks the sleep out of his eyes before Jeno even begins to stir. He shoves the sleeping bag off his legs and crawls across the floor to the outlet he plugged his phone into last night. Swiping into his messages, he types out his call for help.

_can we meet up today? i need ur help with smth **: nana**_

**_injun:_ ** _yeah sure, i’m free before noon_

**_injun:_ ** _wanna go to the crepe place?_

_omg yes ur the best **: nana**_

_see u soon! **: nana**_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ballet vocab used in this chapter:  
> révérence: a gesture of thanks done at the end of a class, an audition, or a dance, usually just a bow or curtsy.   
> fouetté: means 'to whip.' a fouetté turn is done by extending your leg out in front of you and whipping it to the side, then bending your knee to touch your foot to the knee of your standing leg, which creates force to aid you in turning. 
> 
> not a lot of vocab, but A LOT of emotions, holy. jaemin doesn't deserve to suffer like this, why am i doing this to the poor boy? hopefully y'all can forgive me someday (whenever i next update lol). anyway, i hope you're having a good day/night wherever you are, and don't forget to stay hydrated!


	7. opening up and the burden of advice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey everyone, look who's posting a chapter at a reasonable time and not making y'all wait *points at self with pride*
> 
> this chapter is a bit on the shorter side, and the next one is only marginally longer, but the one after that is a monster chapter. hopefully it'll be satisfactory :)
> 
> okay enough of me talking, please enjoy the chapter!

The crepe place Jaemin meets Renjun at is situated at a plaza flanked by Jeno’s favorite movie theater – yes, Jeno ranks the movie theaters in their city. A few apartment complexes are squished in there too, towering over the sushi restaurant and the Ulta Beauty store. Jaemin walks through the water fountains, turned off during the colder months, and finds Renjun seated at one of the outdoor tables.

He sneaks up behind his friend and, right when Renjun is about to win the game he’s playing on his phone, throws his arms around Renjun’s neck and smothers him in a hug. “Hi, Junnie!” he says, paying no mind to the screech Renjun emits. Jaemin relinquishes his hold after Renjun slaps his arms, cursing under his breath.

“Hi to you, too, I guess,” Renjun says, coughing for good measure and massaging his neck with one hand. Jaemin rolls his eyes; Renjun’s exaggerating, maybe not as much as Hyunjin or Donghyuck would, but when it benefits him, he knows how to lay on the charm and the guilt. After his dramatics, Renjun eyes Jaemin curiously, like he’s inspecting a specimen in bio class. His eyebrows are furrowed together, and he looks like he wants to say something, but after a moment of thought, decides against it. Instead, he gestures to the door of the crepe place and says, “We should order?”

Jaemin stuffs his hands in the pockets of his coat and nuzzles his chin into the collar. “Yeah, yeah,” he agrees, “let’s order.”

He wrinkles his nose at Renjun’s order of a strawberry-banana-Nutella crepe, and places an order for an extra-Nutella crepe. “You eat too much sugar,” Renjun comments as they seat themselves inside. If they sat outside, Renjun would probably freeze his feet off, and Jaemin doesn’t think that sounds like such a great idea a week before full-run rehearsals.

“I eat a perfectly normal amount of sugar,” Jaemin counters, “for someone that has a sweet tooth.” Renjun groans and mutters something about how ‘that doesn’t matter,’ and Jaemin grins. “Besides, dancers don’t adhere to that leafy-green meal plan the internet seems to think we have. Breaking stereotypes, right?” He holds his hands up and shrugs.

“I guess,” Renjun admits, unzipping his coat and shrugging it off his shoulders. He leans his elbows on the table and props his chin up in his hands. “So,” he starts, dragging out the word, “you said you needed my help? What can the almighty Renjun do for you?”

Jaemin slaps Renjun’s arm lightly, a small reminder to be humble, even though Renjun won’t heed his warning anyway. “It’s not so much help that I need,” Jaemin says, lying his arm down on the table. “More like advice.”

“Okay, shoot,” Renjun says.

Jaemin swallows. His throat is dry, and there’s something clawing at it from the inside. His heart is beating almost sadly inside his chest, a dull reminder of what he’s trying to lose, trying to get away from. He breathes in, and lets the words spill off his tongue. “How do you get over a crush?” He doesn’t look at Renjun, can’t bear to see the look of pure confusion on his friend’s face. So, he waits for Renjun to process the information and wipe the shock off his face before looking up at him.

Predictably, Renjun’s eyebrows are furrowed, but that’s the only evidence of surprise left on his face. He crosses his arms on top of the table and leans closer to Jaemin. “Well,” he starts, searching for the right thing to say, “that depends, I guess. Who do you have a crush on?”

Jaemin knew that question would come up. Renjun takes giving advice very seriously; he likes to get all the details before he tells someone what their next step should be. He makes it seem almost like a scientific process: gathering all the necessary information, running trials in his head and giving the best possible outcome to whoever asks. Besides that, Renjun is one of Jaemin’s closest friends. He’d never pass up an opportunity to be in the know about Jaemin’s – theoretical – love life.

It’s because he values Renjun’s opinion so much that he concedes defeat. “You have to promise you won’t tell anyone,” Jaemin says, voice low. Renjun’s eyes go wide, almost like he wasn’t expecting Jaemin to agree to tell him. He nods so quickly Jaemin worries he’ll give himself a headache. “Look, it’s – ”

“Strawberry-banana-Nutella crepe?” Jaemin looks up to the employee carrying two trays of crepes. “And… an extra-Nutella?”

Jaemin smiles politely – _hopefully it doesn’t look too pained –_ and reaches out to take one of the plates off her hands. “Yes, thank you so much,” he says, setting the plate down with a clink. She puts the other plate down in front of Renjun and smiles, then heads back to the kitchen.

Renjun swaps their plates once he sees the mounds of strawberries poking through the crepe in front of Jaemin, and starts cutting into it with his fork. Jaemin looks on disdainfully. It’s only when Renjun’s mouth is stuffed full does he motion for Jaemin to continue. After a deep sigh, Jaemin complies. His voice is no louder than a hoarse whisper when he says, “It’s Jeno.”

He expects Renjun’s eyes to bug out in shock, but he receives no more than an eyebrow furrow and a head tilt. Renjun swallows his mouthful of crepe and asks, “Why do you wanna get over your crush on him?”

It’s Jaemin’s turn to be confused. “Because I can’t be friends and have a crush on him at the same time?” His voice is tense, strained, a product of keeping the battle between friendship and romantic feelings internal. He rests his elbows on the table and grasps his hair with his fingers. “It’s kinda problematic, you know, wanting to kiss my best friend every time I see him. It’s weird, and stupid, and I definitely value our friendship more than some stupid feelings.”

Renjun lets out a small hum, and Jaemin hears his fork clink on his plate. “Your feelings aren’t stupid, Jaemin. You don’t get to invalidate them just because they’re a little inconvenient. They’re still real, and you’re feeling them.” Jaemin sighs and presses the heels of his hands to his eyes. He hates how right Renjun is.

“I just want to get rid of them,” he says softly. “I just want it to stop, I want to go back to normal.”

Fingers wrap gently around his arms and pull his hands away from his eyes. Renjun looks at him, his eyes glimmering with something. Jaemin hopes it’s not pity, that would absolutely crush him. “If it makes you feel any better, I don’t think true friends would ditch each other just because one of them caught feelings. If anything, they’d be there to help you through it, get over those pesky feelings, even.” Jaemin looks down at his crepe, untouched thus far. “I don’t think Jeno would stop being friends with you just because you have feelings for him.”

Jaemin looks up at Renjun. “You think I should tell him?” he asks, incredulous. That’s never been an option in Jaemin’s mind.

Renjun just shrugs and picks up his fork again. “Who knows,” he says, waving it around in the air, “Jeno could feel the same way and you just don’t know. The only way to find out is to tell him how _you_ feel.”

Jaemin wrinkles his nose again, this time at Renjun’s notion. “No, don’t be ridiculous, Junnie,” he says, finally unravelling his utensils from the napkin. “Jeno doesn’t like me like that, never has, never will. We’re just friends, like we’ll always be.” He starts cutting into his extra-Nutella crepe, and maybe it’s because of his diverted attention that he doesn’t realize the magnitude of Renjun’s sigh. He shoves the bite into his mouth and sees Renjun pinching the bridge of his nose. “Whaff?” Jaemin asks through his food.

Renjun’s shoulders slump with another sigh, this one probably at Jaemin talking with his mouth full. “Okay, if you’re really dead set on getting over this crush, the best thing to do would be to avoid him until the feelings patter out.” He looks up at the ceiling for a second in thought, then brings his gaze back to Jaemin. “But considering both of you are in the same production of a show where you’re the understudy of the principal he’s partnering with, that’s kinda unrealistic.”

Jaemin barks a laugh. “You’re telling me,” he says, pointing his fork at himself. “I’ve had to live with that reality for, like, the past two months. I know it’s not great for getting rid of feelings.” The smile he sticks on his face to keep the mood light doesn’t stay there for too long, so he directs his eyes to his crepe and lets it receive his self-pitying gaze instead.

They’re silent for a bit, Jaemin wallowing and Renjun munching on his crepe. “Maybe,” Renjun starts, words sticky with Nutella, “you could just, I dunno, avoid eye contact or something. Eyes are the window to the soul, or whatever, right?”

Jaemin pushes a piece of crepe around on his plate until Renjun’s idea hits him with full force. “Wait, Renjun, oh my god,” he says, jerking his head up to meet his friend’s eyes. “That might actually work! You’re a genius, Junnie, seriously.” He smiles, even as he stuffs the piece of crepe in his mouth. Now that he’s got a solution to his problem, nothing can bring him down.

Renjun, however, just sighs. “Yeah, yeah, I know,” he says, never one to refuse a compliment – Jaemin wonders if he should ask him how he does it – then stabs his fork in Jaemin’s direction. “Just don’t rat me out to Jeno when he asks why you won’t look at him.”

Still smiling, Jaemin lowers Renjun’s fork. “Don’t worry ‘bout it, Junnie,” he says, “I’ll be over him before he has a chance to figure out something’s off.”

Renjun shrugs. “If you say so.”

_Just you wait, Jeno,_ Jaemin thinks, stabbing one last piece of Nutella-soaked crepe. _I’ll be back to being your friend in no time at all._

_operation: nomin_

_guys we have a problem **: renjun**_

**_yangx2:_ ** _what kinda problem_

**_hyunjin:_ ** _yeah, don’t freak us out over nothing_

_ok ok here’s the tea **: renjun**_

_jaemin’s trying to unlike jeno **: renjun**_

**_felix:_ ** _wait wut_

**_donghyuck:_ ** _how is that possible? he’s the definition of whipped!_

**_shotaro:_ ** _ikr_

**_ryujin:_ ** _we need to do smth_

**_yeji:_ ** _i second that_

_well then, i think it’s time to break out the big guns **: renjun**_

**_heejin:_ ** _wat does that mean_

_hyuck, u remember our endgame plan? **: renjun**_

**_donghyuck:_ ** _u bet i do_

**_hyunjin:_ ** _do the rest of us commoners get to know what the endgame plan is?_

_oh, you’ll find out at dress rehearsal **: renjun**_

**_chaeryeong:_ ** _well that isn’t ominous at all_

**_donghyuck:_ ** _don’t worry guys, it’s a good plan, you’ll like it_

**_hyejoo:_ ** _that just makes me more concerned_

**_yerim:_ ** _i feel bad for jaemin already_

~

There’s a total of two full-runs the weekend before opening night in December, one on Saturday, and one on Sunday. The one on Saturday is complete chaos; with the entire cast and choreographers squeezed into the biggest studio, there’s barely enough room to stand on the edge of the room. Jaemin nearly misses his cue for snow because he’s stepping through the mice dragging Jisung offstage after fight scene.

His true saving grace of the day is Heejin, who performs the choreography Jaemin taught her like she hadn’t learned it through a game of telephone with her understudy. She _chassés_ through the march and polka just as brightly as the music playing through the speakers, and she dances with the Nutcracker doll like it has a life and soul. Even her acting in fight scene before the gunshot is good, so good that Jaemin sees Yuta nodding out of the corner of his eye.

He doesn’t watch the fight scene after the gunshot because that’s when Jeno starts dancing, and Jaemin made a promise to himself, to Jeno, that he’d get over the warmth that’s been plaguing him for months. And if looking away, if averting his eyes from the stage whenever Jeno’s on it is what it takes, then he’ll do it. His heart wrenches in his chest, tries to protest, but Jaemin won’t let himself listen to it. It’s untrustworthy, its logic blinded by a soft voice and kind smile.

The parents’ dance is entertaining to watch, to say the least. It’s all company members participating, ones that were excited enough to volunteer for the role. They’d learned the choreo during the party scene rehearsal last weekend, Jaemin was there for that, but they hadn’t been divided into official partners. Yuta, for all his intense stares and creative visions, hangs off one of the other company members – the one Jaemin vaguely recognizes as the Cavalier – for most of the full-run before parents’ dance. Then, when the Cavalier chooses Momo as his partner, Yuta becomes positively sulky, especially when Ten tells him he’ll have to partner with Taeyong. The disgust is clearly fake – Yuta gives himself away when he gives Taeyong a hug after the first run of the dance – but Jaemin thinks the ‘drama’ is funny. It makes him laugh, and distracts him from the sound of Jeno’s voice anyway.

Now that everyone knows where they need to be, Sunday is a welcome reprieve from the chaos of yesterday’s rehearsal. There isn’t as much frantic rushing to get into position in the tape-marking wings, and the music streaming through the sound system arises less panic in the dancers for missing musical cues. All the scenes are beginning to meld together into a bigger picture, a bigger production. Jaemin may know the story by heart, but there’s a certain satisfaction that sits in his chest as he watches the show unfold.

With the cast being limited to the upper division of the ballet school and participation of willing company members, the version of _the Nutcracker_ they perform has a shorter run-time. The dances that get cut vary from year to year; this year the snow _pas de deux_ didn’t make it, and both the party scene and fight scene were shortened to keep Act I to a reasonable length. In the first scene, Clara explores Herr Drosselmeyer’s workshop, where the dolls he’s crafted come to life.

From the side of the studio, Jaemin’s vantage point isn’t great. Being one of the last dancers to perform in Act I means he’s standing behind everyone else, and some of the company members are actually really tall, so it’s hard to see over their shoulders even if he rises up on half-toe. He’s not even watching from where the audience would be, he’s looking through where the wings would be backstage.

Still, even with his limited vision, Jaemin can see his friends shine.

The first dolls to come alive are the harlequin dolls, Yangyang and Felix. Their choreo is quick and playful, like they’re fighting, and allows each of them to show off their flexibility and repertoire of tricks. Felix _battements_ high into the air like he’s kicking Yangyang in the face, and Yangyang does a back-walkover from the impact. When they race across the stage, Felix ends with an Italian _pas de chat_ , and Yangyang ends with a Bournonville _jeté_. At one point, Felix does a cartwheel holding onto Yangyang’s legs that has Jaemin holding his breath. Then, Yangyang does a cartwheel holding onto Felix’s legs, and they repeat it until they run out of stage. Their ending pose is meant to be funny; they have a stare-down on opposite sides of the stage, heads propped up on fists as they slide into the middle splits.

Chaeryeong dances the ballerina doll differently than she does the Spanish dancer. Her movement is fluid and graceful, but there’s a stiffness to her as she holds her character as a doll. Her fingers are flat, her arms are angled, and her feet are sometimes flexed and Jaemin thinks it’s spectacular. She _piqués_ and waltzes as the string melody fades in and out around the flute. As she goes back to her position from before she came to life, the tune changes to dark and ominous.

When Shotaro comes to life as the solider doll, he embodies the music circling through the studio. His lines are clean and sharp as he salutes, and his Italian _changements_ are insane; each time he jumps higher than before. Jaemin watches him envelop the studio with every _sissonne_ and _assemblé_ , not with envy – though the power in Shotaro’s technique is enviable – but with pride.

Pride soars through his bones, travelling with a searing heat from his chest to his fingertips to the ends of his toes. Those dancers doing so well – those are his _friends._ They practiced hours upon hours to have the chance to show the audience what they can really do, to show them what they’re made of. By now, all of them are made for the stage, crafted to hear the applause and feel the white hot burn of triumph, of accomplishment.

The scene ends with Dross – Johnny – putting an end to the dolls’ mayhem, who all come to life after Shotaro dances. They leave the stage, Yangyang and Felix with linked arms, Chaeryeong stepping gracefully and Shotaro marching quickly. Their faces are flushed, and a little slick with sweat, but Jaemin pushes through and wraps his arms around their shoulders anyway. His smile is wide, and he couldn’t be more proud to be a dancer.

He doesn’t watch Jeno, but he hopes that his friend knows he’s just as proud of him as he is of the others.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ballet vocab used in this chapter:  
> chassé - means 'to chase,' pronounced 'sha-say.' it's the fancy ballet dancer way of saying gallop, yeah, it's just a gallop.  
> pas de deux - 'dance for two.' usually done by the principal dancers of a production. the snow pas de deux happens right after fight scene when clara and the prince are waking up. if older dancers play clara+prince, they'll do the pas de deux, but if they're played by kids, usually the snow queen and her partner will do it.  
> battement - in this case i shortened 'grand battement' which means 'big beat.' it's a kick done with a straight knee high into the air.  
> Italian pas de chat - 'pas de chat' means 'step of the cat' (pronounced 'pah-de-sha'). it's where you kick out one leg and bend the other in the air before landing on both feet at the same time, usually in fifth position (feet crossed).  
> Bournonville jeté - 'jeté' means 'to throw.' a Bournonville jeté is a leap where you land on one foot with the other leg extended behind you in attitude (leg bent and off the ground).  
> piqué - means 'to prick.' here, it's a piqué turn, so you turn towards the leg you step on and attach the foot of your other leg behind your knee.  
> Italian changement - 'changement' means 'to change' (pronounced 'shawn-je-mah'). changement is where you swap which foot is in front (ex: if your right foot is in front in fifth position, you jump and land with your left foot in front). an Italian changement is the same thing but you bend your knees when you jump into the air. (side note, these are actually so tiring, it's like doing squats but gravity is working double time against you).  
> sissonne - this step doesn't mean anything, it was literally just named after the person who created it. it's where you jump from two feet and land on one foot (depending on the type of sissonne, you'll either close the other foot you didn't land on to fifth position or leave it extended).  
> assemblé - means 'to assemble.' you brush one leg out and jump off the standing leg, bringing your legs together in the air and landing on two feet. 
> 
> oh god sooo much vocab my brain hurts again. some of the steps appear in multiple places but i feel like i just describe them differently each time (hopefully that's not confusing haha). 
> 
> side note, i really regretted not posting this starting in December (you know, Nutcracker season), but apparently my ballet school is gonna start rehearsing for the Nutcracker this month so we'll be able to record the performance in the summer and play it in winter (honestly so confusing but hey, whatever works in covid time), so i guess i'll need to get back into the Nutcracker spirit sooner than i thought. this fic was born because i needed a way to survive not performing the Nutcracker last year, but i'm also glad i'll be able to get back to it soon!
> 
> anyway, that's my rant for today. hopefully you'll be kind to jaemin, he's having a rough time right now so i'd better not see y'all griping about his questionable methods of getting over a crush (constructive criticism is accepted though). as always, comments/kudos are appreciated, and i hope you have a wonderful day/night wherever you are! thank you for reading!


	8. dress rehearsal and the joy of putting on a show

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it is very late where i am, and i just finished off the last episode of wandavision and then tortured myself by watching endgame again (marvel fans, where you at), so it's safe to say that there might be a typo or two that i didn't catch. if you happen to come across one, just pretend like you didn't see it haha
> 
> alright, enough chitchat, here's chapter eight!

The performance hall they’re putting on the show at has three entrances, but Jaemin only knows where one of them is – a giant wall of glass windows and the whole lobby covered with expensive-looking carpeting. Jaemin sees the other dancers huddled outside the entrance near the ticket window as his mom veers into a three-minutes loading zone, along with Moonbyul, Ten, the other choreographers and company members in the show.

“Text me when you’re almost done,” his mom nags, and Jaemin responds with a wave as he shuts the car door and hefts his dance bag over his shoulder. The stage makeup really shouldn’t add that much more weight, but as Jaemin flounders down the stairs, the bag keeps bumping into the backs of his legs. Something sharp is stabbing his hamstring, and he’s pretty positive it’s one of those infernal eyeshadow palettes Donghyuck convinced him he needed.

He makes it to the entrance, way too out of breath and red in the face for a dancer during performance season, just as Moonbyul pushes up her sleeve to check her watch. “Ah, you’ve decided to join us,” she says, pulling the sleeve of her jacket back down. She eyes Jaemin’s hair and the way his heels are crushing the backs of his shoes. Yangyang is going to give him hell for that once he sees.

Jaemin inhales deeply, trying to get his breathing under control. “Sorry,” he pants, “got held up at the – the salon. Then I forgot my water bottle.” He smiles sheepishly and shrugs one shoulder.

Moonbyul narrows her eyebrows accusingly, then sighs. “Well, better late than never, I guess.” She walks towards the doors, and the dancers part the way like the ocean for Moana. “Let’s get the tour over with so we can get out of here at a reasonable hour.” There’s a low chorus of agreement from the dancers, and Moonbyul props the doors open with a doorstop left inside.

Jaemin shuffles through the doors at the back of the pack of dancers. Once they’re inside, someone bumps shoulders with his. “Hi,” Jeno says, because of course it’s Jeno. Jaemin can hear the smile in his voice, but he doesn’t let himself look up to see it. He keeps his eyes trained on the fancy carpeting, but smiles to let Jeno know he’s listening. He hopes that’s enough. “You know, I was about to text you right before you got here to ask where you were,” Jeno continues. “Everyone was really confused ‘cause, like, you’re never late. Like, ever.”

Jaemin chuckles. His eyes flit over to Moonbyul at the front of the pack, giving the performance hall spiel. It’s always an iteration of, ‘This isn’t our space, so no food backstage, no electronics during the show, keep track of your stuff.’ Jaemin’s heard it all before; this isn’t his first time performing here with the ballet school – yet he _still_ doesn’t know where the other two entrances are.

He leans closer to Jeno so he’ll be able to hear him even though he’s looking at the floor. He keeps his voice low as he mutters, “Well, you know me, I like to keep everyone on their toes. _Ha,_ dance pun.” He grins when Jeno snorts. “Anyway, my hair was totally fried from all that bleach, the stylist nearly had a heart-attack when she touched it.”

Jeno snickers and leans impossibly closer, one hand on Jaemin’s shoulder. The touch sends a jolt down Jaemin’s arm, and he feels his body start to heat up. He wants to pull away because _this is not helping me get rid of my crush on you, Jeno,_ but he can’t bring himself to do it. He can picture the wounded look on Jeno’s face all too clearly.

“The extra time was worth it, though,” Jeno says, breath tickling Jaemin’s ear.

“What do you mean?” Jaemin asks. His shoulder rises up to protect his ear, a knee-jerk reaction to being tickled.

Jeno laughs, and the hand on Jaemin’s shoulder goes to comb through his hair, freshly dyed black and still a little wet from the salon. Jaemin told the stylist he didn’t need any product, but she went ahead and styled his hair anyway. He didn’t mind too much; he’s going to sweat it all out before dress rehearsal is over.

“It looks really good on you, Jaem,” Jeno says, his voice low and hushed. It sends a shiver down Jaemin’s spine.

And because Jaemin’s weak, ever so weak for this boy who caught his heart when it crawled through the prison bars of his ribcage, he tears his gaze away from his shoes and looks up at Jeno. He doesn’t think he can call it a mistake that he does so, or even a misstep, because the smile on Jeno’s face makes his chest fill up with warmth. It’s not the searing heat that rises to his cheeks every time Jeno partners him while he’s understudying, or the embarrassed flush that floods his body when Jeno’s face gets a little too close for Jaemin’s poor heart. It’s comforting, this warmth, and it comes from the smile Jeno wears on his face whenever Jaemin sees him. For a moment, Jaemin wonders why he wanted to stop liking Jeno in the first place when one smile makes him so unbelievably, irrevocably happy.

Then, a blade of guilt slices through him, leaving him with a large gash on his torso. How could Jaemin think about harboring his crush just to feel happy? Is he using Jeno because he likes him, and is reaping the benefits of having a best friend that is affectionate and cares about him? How is it fair that he’s keeping this secret from Jeno, someone who knows how long he wet the bed for and was the first person Jaemin came out to?

_There’s no way I’m not a terrible friend for being like this,_ Jaemin realizes. The thought makes him want to curl in on himself, which results in him ducking away from Jeno. The hand in his hair is gone, and Jaemin’s head feels lighter without the weight, as nice as it was. The guilt, however, does not leave. It adds an extra ton to his already heavy heart.

Because he doesn’t want to leave Jeno’s compliment hanging in the air, now thick with his emotional turmoil, Jaemin squeaks out a small, “Thanks.” He’s back to staring at the floor, back to his original plan to get over his crush on Jeno. He follows the pack of dancers as Moonbyul leads them out of the lobby and towards the backstage area.

Jeno gasps somewhere behind him, then leans in to whisper, “I think you just accepted a compliment.” Jaemin furrows his eyebrows. “You didn’t even try to make excuses, like tell me it was all the stylist’s work that makes it look good.”

“I wouldn’t be wrong if I said that, she _did_ dye my hair,” Jaemin points out, but his argument is faulty because of the smile creeping its way onto his face. His eyes come up from the floor, but he keeps his gaze in front of him, away from Jeno. He breaks out into a full grin. “Well, I’ve gotta give it to you, Jeno. You’ve successfully made Jaemin Na accept a compliment at face-value. Congratulations.”

“Do I get a prize?” Jeno asks. “Ooh! Or a medal?”

Jaemin snickers. “I’ll make you one.” It’s a flaky promise, but Jaemin knows he’ll go home thinking about designing one for Jeno anyway.

“Ahem!” Moonbyul clears her throat excessively, and a few heads turn back to Jaemin and Jeno. Hyunjin raises an eyebrow at them that Jaemin chooses to ignore, and Chaeryeong sympathy-winces for them. Getting on Moonbyul’s bad side, especially during performance season, isn’t something to wish on anyone.

“Now that I have _everyone’s_ attention,” she says pointedly, “I’d like to introduce the director of stage crew, Mr. Moon. If you need anything backstage and can’t find me, he’s your guy.”

“Thanks, Moonbyul,” Mr. Moon says, then gives a small wave. “Hi, everyone. I’m really excited to work with you guys this year. I have a hunch that this show will be one to remember.” Ten, standing off the side with the other choreographers, noticeably gulps. Jaemin guesses Moonbyul isn’t the only one stressed out from performance season. “Now,” Mr. Moon resumes, “let’s get you guys familiar with the backstage.”

Mr. Moon leads everyone to the changing rooms to drop all their bags. Inside, the vanities are the kinds with lightbulbs around the mirrors and chairs with sturdy backs, and there are a few sliding curtains that block off small changing areas. The advanced boys clamor for mirror space, the biggest fight breaking out between Hyunjin and Donghyuck over the spot closest to the trash can – prime territory for throwing away makeup wipes. Jaemin has to step in after Hyunjin threatens to whack Donghyuck on the head with a straightening iron. If anyone else said that he’d be less worried, but Jaemin knows that Hyunjin actually _does_ have a straightening iron, so he tries to calm the flames of that fight before it gets serious.

After leaving their stuff in the changing rooms – and Jaemin facilitating a discussion between Hyunjin and Donghyuck that doesn’t involve a straightening iron – Mr. Moon brings the dancers into the wings. It’s so dark Jaemin can barely see, the only light coming from the spotlight on the stage. The dancers get introduced to a friendly-looking man who turns out to be the tech director.

“I’m Kun,” the tech director says, “I’ll be controlling the backdrops, the scrim and the effects like snow and strobe lights. We’ll do a demonstration so you guys can get familiarized with it before dancing with the music.”

When Jaemin danced in fight scene, he wasn’t a fan of the strobe lights just because it made everything even more chaotic in an already chaotic scene. But just standing on the stage with his castmates beside him, watching as the lights flicker over their faces and cast shadows onto the floor is different. It grounds him. He looks out into the house through the flickering lights. The seats in the audience are empty, but soon, in less than twenty-four hours, they’ll be filled. People will come to watch Jaemin and his friends pour their hearts over the stage with every step and leap. The lights may flicker wildly, but Jaemin’s heart is thumping steadily in his chest. 

Kun and Mr. Moon introduce the dancers to the rest of the stage crew, four boys that look a little older than Jaemin. There’s Mark, the sound effects guy, and Lucas, who’s in charge of the pulleys and levers for the sets. There’s Dejun, who helps Mr. Moon with the music, and Hendery, who’s got the lighting covered.

“They’re all volunteers from the university’s drama club,” Kun explains, “but they’re surprisingly capable, so please try not to worry about them messing up the show.”

“I feel like we should be offended by that,” Mark says, eyebrows furrowed, and Lucas just laughs and wraps his arm around Mark’s shoulders.

“Anyhoo,” Moonbyul says, stepping in, “thank you for the tour, Mr. Moon. I trust you and the rest of the stage crew – no, I’m not lying through my teeth, what are you talking about.” She claps her hands together, and the dancers stand up about an inch straighter. “We’re going in show order, and then we’ll run anything that needs more work again. _Hopefully,_ we won’t need to run anything again because you’ve rehearsed so much that it’s ingrained into your bodies.” There’s a ripple of nods from the assembled cast. “Okay, to your changing rooms. We go from the top of Act I in ten, everybody!”

After filing out of the wings, everyone stops by the costume racks in the halls. The costumes are organized by act number and piece, or at least they’re supposed to be. Jaemin does hear Chenle squawking about his mouse costume hanging next to the dolls’ costumes. He sighs and shakes his head as he paws through the rack of snow costumes and unhooks the white and periwinkle tunic with his name on the hanger.

On the way to the boys’ changing room, he brushes by the prop table and nearly sends the Mouse King’s sword careening to the floor. He jerks his hand out and catches the prop by the blade, and shimmies it back onto the table with the side of his hip. As he turns to go, one of the props sticks out in his line of vision like a bright orange traffic cone in the middle of the street. The Nutcracker, still bandaged with tape and beard matted, stands strong at the back of the table next to the Sugar Plum Fairy’s wand and Clara’s crown. Now that it’s not lying in its carboard box, it looks a bit more grand, like it too is ready for the stage. There’s a strange pull in Jaemin’s chest as he looks at the doll, one he can’t quite place.

“Hey Jaem, you coming?” Jaemin whips his head around at the voice and meets Jeno’s eyes as he calls from the door to the changing room. There’s a hint of a smile on Jeno’s face, which makes Jaemin think he got caught staring. In Jeno’s hands is the deep-blue tunic accented with silver: the costume of the Nutcracker Prince.

“Yeah,” Jaemin says, propelling his feet towards the changing room. It takes all his willpower to combat the instinct to look back at the Nutcracker and swipe it off the table, cradling it in his arms like he’s done so many times before.

~

The first act doesn’t pass without its faults. Despite practicing with the gift boxes during rehearsal, Felix manages to get himself stuck inside one – he blames the frills and ruffles on his costume, but no one believes him – and since the dolls scene is during the first few scenes of the production, Moonbyul tells everyone to go from the top again. Her voice is crackly through the loudspeaker in the dressing room, but Jaemin can hear the disappointment in it nonetheless.

Once the fight scene music trickles into the changing room through the loudspeaker, Jaemin pushes himself out of his chair and shuffles into the stage right wing. From his limited vantage point behind the hot stage lights, he can see the mice scurrying onstage and Jisung and Heejin fighting over the Nutcracker doll. In the wing on the other side of the stage, Jaemin catches sight of Jeno, the giant Nutcracker head resting on his shoulders. The moment Jeno marches out onstage, Jaemin’s heart seizes. The visibility can’t be great in that head. The mice are in a similar predicament with their heads, Jisung’s even has extra weight with more tiny mouse heads attached to it and a little crown. The only one currently onstage with full visibility is Heejin, and the thought shakes Jaemin to his core. He doesn’t know if he could handle being so aware and in tune with his surroundings.

Sometime during the sword fight between Jeno and Jisung, Yeji comes into the wing and settles beside Jaemin. Her sparkly tutu flares out around her as she does a tiny pointe warm-up to calm her nerves. Jaemin offers his shoulder as a makeshift barre, and Yeji smiles appreciatively. He grins back easily and turns his focus towards the stage. The mice are dragging Jisung off the stage, concealing one of the stage crew members, Lucas, Jaemin thinks, darting out onto the stage to take the Nutcracker head once Jeno unstraps it.

The flute whistle of the beginning of snow echoes out onto the stage, and Jaemin steels himself for his cue. Renjun and Hyejoo enter first with a playful partner canon, and Jaemin and Yeji mirror them on their side of the stage. They circle around each other with a _piqué_ _attitude_ and an _embo_ _îté_ combination before acting out a realization that there are two fainted humans in the snow forest. Heejin, who fainted stage right, is awoken by Jaemin and Yeji. They direct her to Jeno, who gets awoken by Renjun and Hyejoo, and the two reunite as Clara discovers that her Nutcracker was a Prince under a spell. They get directions to the Land of Sweets from the snowflakes, and, once they make their exit, the real fun begins.

The icicles, also known as the intermediate level girls, enter from the upstage wings as the melody picks up again. Jaemin takes a deep breath and smiles. Unlike with whatever’s going on between him and Jeno, on the stage he knows what he’s doing. Weeks of rehearsal have prepared him for tomorrow when the house is full of wide-eyed strangers there to witness art unfold on the stage. And Jaemin, well, he’s going to give it to them. He hasn’t trained for years to not know how to put on a show.

So, he extends his leg into a _fouetté_ , and he dances.

~

Jaemin started ballet like every other five-year-old, with his parents enrolling him so he’d be well-rounded. For a few years, he balanced ballet classes, soccer practice and swimming lessons. He was content to do all of them at the same time, even though it meant most of his weeknights weren’t free for playdates or getting ice cream after school.

Eventually, soccer practice was scheduled two days a week, and swimming lessons became boring after he mastered the harder strokes. The more Jaemin advanced in the elementary level of Eclipse School of Ballet, the more classes he was required to take a week. Before the spring soccer season started up in sixth grade, his parents had to sit him down and tell him that it was impossible for him to be in two places at once on Tuesdays and Thursdays for soccer practice and ballet. Jaemin was expecting it when they told him he had to pick one thing to stick with, one thing he could continue with and make his own.

They gave him a week to decide. Jaemin didn’t need a week.

He’d decided the moment he saw the Eclipse Ballet Company Showcase a month ago, and watched one of the dancers completely dominate the stage. He made the stage seem larger than life, projected his emotions with every arm extension and told a story as he leaped across the stage.

When the dancer bowed after his piece, smile radiant, Jaemin realized he wanted to stand onstage, wanted to bask in the stagelights and smile just like that. One day, he’d smile and show everyone just how much he loved it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ballet vocab used in this chapter:  
> piqué attitude - you step onto one leg with your other leg in an attitude position (bent and in the air, usually behind you)  
> emboîté - pronounced 'ahm-bwa-tay,' means 'fitted together' or 'box-like.' you jump and land with one leg bent, then jump onto that leg and land with the other leg bent. that carries on for as long as you like, and sometimes you do it while turning.  
> fouetté - means 'to whip.' in this case, it's not a turn, it's a step where you extend your leg out in front of you, then jump and twist your body so that you're facing the other direction and your leg is now behind you. it's kinda like you flipped over in the air. 
> 
> huzzah, not so much vocab, but maybe some emotions (just maybe). since this was written while i was missing nutcracker and performing, the yearning for the stage vibes are strong here. hopefully y'all enjoyed this chapter (leave a comment/kudo if you did, i love knowing your thoughts), and i hope wherever you are you have a spectacular day/night!


	9. a stubborn heart and the consequences of hope

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well hello again everyone, i'm back and posting at a time when i should be sleeping (not that that's an excuse for grammar/typos, but if you happen to see any, kindly turn a blind eye, please and thank you)
> 
> this is by far the longest chapter yet, so buckle your seatbelts folks and grab some popcorn (maybe some water too, stay hydrated peeps). now without further ado, please enjoy chapter 9!

Moonbyul doesn’t give the cast much of an intermission as part of her grand plan to get everyone home before 9 p.m. That guarantees the flurry around the costume racks after the snow scene ends, and Jaemin’s sure they’re even more unorganized than they were before. He does his best to hang up his snow costume and snatch his Spanish outfit off the rack without getting in the way of everyone else. Just as he makes it to the door of the changing room, Yangyang stops him in his tracks and asks him for help finding his Arabian costume.

“It’s not on the rack with Felix’s?” Jaemin inquires, folding his Spanish costume over his arm.

Yangyang shakes his head and leads him to the rack of second act costumes. He sifts through the hangers with one hand and shows Jaemin an empty hanger with his name on it. “I don’t get it,” Yangyang says, “how does someone forget a whole-ass costume? And to think that it’s mine? Someone forgot about me? Unthinkable.”

Jaemin closes his eyes and breathes in. Unfortunately, when he opens them, Yangyang’s still standing in front of him with an empty hanger and an incredulous look on his face. Jaemin heaves a deep sigh before looking down the hall for a certain freckled teen. “Have you asked Felix if he’s seen it?” Jaemin asks. “You’re both in the same scenes, maybe your costumes got mixed up during the move from the studio.”

“Uh,” Yangyang says. He doesn’t seem like he’s listening, especially with the way he’s looking over Jaemin’s shoulder. Jaemin furrows his eyebrows and snaps his fingers in front of Yangyang’s face. Normally, he’s more patient with his friends, but it’s dress rehearsal night; tension is thick and nerves are high. Yangyang blinks at the noise in front of his face, and he narrows his eyes at Jaemin. After one last peek over Jaemin’s shoulder, his eyes light up with pure, unbridled joy. “Oh! I think Donghyuck has my costume, that’s weird. I didn’t think he was that obsessed with me. Anyway,” Yangyang says, turning Jaemin around and pushing him towards the changing room. “You get ready for Act II, thanks for your help, good luck!”

The door of the changing room slams behind him, and Jaemin looks over his shoulder at it. Then, there’s a faint sound from the handle, something that sounds suspiciously like a lock clicking. Jaemin grips the handle and tries to turn it, but it sticks and doesn’t move. He jostles it harder, but the door doesn’t budge. “Didn’t know it could do that from the outside,” Jaemin mutters. He purses his lips and sighs with his head against the door. All he can hope for is that his friends give up on the prank and unlock the door before he has to be out onstage. He lifts his head off the cold, smooth wood of the door and makes to plop down in front of his designated mirror, but he freezes in his tracks.

Because the room is empty, save for Jaemin, costume in arms, and Jeno. Jaemin swears.

Jeno stops unpacking what looks like a makeup bag at the noise. “Oh, hi, Jaem,” he says. “You good?”

Jaemin remembers that to talk he needs to open his mouth, so he swallows and parts his lips. “Um, well,” he starts, “there’s been a development.”

Jeno looks up at him, concern written on his face. “What is it? Is it bad?”

“Well, potentially,” Jaemin admits. His heart’s already doing double time because it’s aware of the fact that he and Jeno are the only ones in the room, and it’s so, so difficult to convince his hopeless romantic of a muscle to shut the hell up and accept the fact that nothing will ever happen between them. He forces down the tendril of warmth sneaking up his throat, and braces himself before everything spills out. “Basically, we’re locked in this room for the time being because apparently the door locks from the outside. And I know that doesn’t make any sense, but I already tried the door, and it didn’t budge, so we’re trapped now. And… yeah.”

Jeno’s silent for a bit as he processes Jaemin’s word vomit, but once he understands, a look of recognition crosses his face. Soon, it morphs into fear. “Holy shit, if we’re locked in here…”

“Moonbyul will wring our necks,” Jaemin finishes for him. “If we don’t die of starvation first.” He knows he’s being dramatic, but Jaemin thinks he has a right too. After all, he’s trapped in the changing room with his crush – who also happens to be his best friend – on dress rehearsal night. And worst of all –

“Oh crap, Jeno,” Jaemin realizes, “you’re in here.”

Jeno looks up for a moment, contemplating, then returns his gaze to Jaemin. “Yeah, that sounds about right. At least, I’m pretty sure I’m here. Should I have you pinch me?” He grins, bringing out the eye-smile.

Jaemin wrinkles his nose at Jeno, not even bothering to acknowledge his joke. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it. Jeno, you’re a principal. You’re in basically every scene.”

“Yeah, I know, Jaem. I just need to get my stage makeup done and I’ll be ready to go. I couldn’t do it before I put that head on, and I’m kinda glad I didn’t, my face got _so_ sweaty in there, and – ” Jeno stops abruptly, foundation in hand. Jaemin just looks at him, deadpan. It’s not his fault it took so long for his friend to figure it out.

“I… I have to get out there,” Jeno mumbles. His eyes shine ever so desperately as he looks at Jaemin. “You sure you tried the door? Like, _really_ tried? Rammed your shoulder into it and everything?”

Jaemin blows out a breath of air as he rolls his eyes. “I didn’t attempt to dislocate my shoulder to open the door, but yes, I did _really_ try to get it open.” He looks around the room at all the discarded street clothes hanging out of dance bags, shoes kicked away on the floor before finding Jeno’s eyes again. “We’re locked in, Jeno. And I’m sure whoever’s pulling this prank right now is having a great laugh about it too.”

Now that the idea of ‘being locked in the changing room’ has finally registered with Jeno, he’s frozen in his chair, a look of passive shock melded onto his features. It’s a minute before Jaemin sighs and drapes his costume over the back of a chair and pads over to Jeno. He pries the foundation out of Jeno’s hands, and Jeno looks up at him wide-eyed.

“I’ll do your makeup,” Jaemin reassures him, pulling Jeno’s makeup bag towards him. “That way, you can freak out without having to worry about blending your eyeshadow.” He finishes up Jeno’s foundation job, then digs out the eyeshadow palette from Jeno’s bag. There’s an eyeshadow brush lying on the vanity table – it’s either Hyunjin or Donghyuck’s, whoever ended up getting the coveted seat near the trash can – and Jaemin picks it up and touches the brush to the palette. “Close your eyes.”

Jeno obeys and Jaemin applies the color to his lids, sticking to the guidelines for stage makeup that Ten emailed to everyone at the beginning of the week. _Natural colors, no shimmers or glitters._ Jeno’s breathing is shallow while Jaemin works, like he’s afraid breathing too hard will disturb Jaemin’s steady hand. Jaemin finds it both endearing and helpful. After all, he really doesn’t want to stab his crush/best friend in the eye.

When both of Jeno’s lids are coated with pigment, Jaemin leans back to survey his handiwork. It’s not perfect – he’s no Donghyuck, by any means – but it’s good enough for dress rehearsal. He taps the excess off the brush and closes the palette. “Okay, done,” he says, and Jeno opens his eyes. Jaemin’s heart stutters for a second when Jeno looks at him because, even though he’s seen Jeno with makeup on before, he hasn’t really _seen_ him. The last time Jaemin saw Jeno with makeup on was well before he had a name for the warmth in his chest and the pounding of his heart.

“Does it look okay?” Jeno asks, taking Jaemin’s silence for dislike.

Jaemin blinks once, then scrambles for something to say to soothe the worried look on Jeno’s face. “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he says all too quickly, all too panicked. “It’s good, you look good.” He freezes when the last words tumble out of his mouth, and turns away from Jeno to look for the powders.

Jeno hums as Jaemin dusts the apples of his cheeks with blush, then contours the already sharp planes of his face. “You really think so?” Jeno wonders aloud, fixing Jaemin with an inquisitive stare. Anyone who doesn’t know Jeno would be intimidated by that look, but it just makes Jaemin soften. Jeno only uses that look when he wants the truth, and nothing but the truth. And who is Jaemin to refuse him?

“Yes, Jeno,” he says, swiping the highs of Jeno’s cheekbones with a shimmery highlighter on his finger. He chuckles to himself, a small, one-syllable laugh, then smiles. “I really think so.” That puts a smile on Jeno’s face that Jaemin never wants to see leave, not when it makes him feel so _warm._

Jaemin finishes Jeno’s makeup with the eyeliner. He saved it for last partly because he had hopes that the door would magically unlock itself and someone else could come do it – eyeliner is admittedly not Jaemin’s strong suit – and partly because doing Jeno’s eyeliner means getting close to him. Like, really close. Close enough to where Jaemin thinks Jeno can hear his heart pounding away in his chest, can see his skin flushing even under the heavy stage makeup he applied earlier.

“I – I’m gonna need you to close your eyes again,” Jaemin says, unscrewing the cap on the eyeliner marker. He’s glad Jeno doesn’t have the liquid kind, he doesn’t trust his hand not to shake and mess everything up. He edges closer to Jeno, resting his hand on the back of the chair instead of Jeno’s shoulder for stability.

Jeno gives a small nod and closes his eyes, shifting around as Jaemin leans in. Jaemin tries his best to focus on the task at hand – mainly, not stabbing Jeno in the eye – but it’s _hard,_ it’s so, so hard when he’s this close to Jeno and he has to keep telling his poor heart that he can’t kiss him. _He’s my best friend,_ Jaemin tells his begging heart, _what kind of friend am I if I wanna kiss him?_

He doesn’t know if his heart finally listens to logic and reason or is just tired of holding out for someone who was never going to grab on in the first place, but the beating in his chest slows down enough for Jaemin to apply an under-eyeliner that isn’t completely wobbly. In fact, as Jaemin pulls back to survey his work –

“Fuck yeah, I did it!” he whisper-cheers. Jeno opens his eyes at the sound of Jaemin’s voice. Jaemin swats a hand at him, dispersing the flash of confusion in Jeno’s eyes, and removes his hand from the back of the chair. He sees a little divot in the under-eyeliner where his hand shook, and touches a finger to Jeno’s face, just below his right eye, to fix the mistake. His tongue pokes out the side of his mouth in concentration. Jeno looks up at him in something akin to awe while he corrects his eyeliner job. If Jaemin wasn’t so focused, maybe he’d find time to be flustered under Jeno’s gaze.

“That wasn’t your first time doing eyeliner, I hope?” Jeno asks warily, pushing himself up from the chair. He leans in close to the mirror to inspect Jaemin’s handiwork. Jaemin doesn’t think Jeno will find any imperfections, he’s weirdly on his makeup game today.

“No,” Jaemin says, tucking Jeno’s products back into the bag. He turns to Jeno, cheeky smirk on display. “It was my second.”

Jeno barks a laugh. “You should’ve told me that before I let you near my face with that thing.” He pulls on the skin near one of his eyelids to check his eyeshadow.

The zipper of the makeup bag sounds through the changing room as Jaemin closes it. He tosses it back into Jeno’s dance bag and raises an eyebrow. “I mean, who else was gonna do it?” Jaemin says pointedly, gesturing to the empty changing room. Then, he juts out his lower lip in a pout. “Did I really do that bad of a job?”

Jeno whips around immediately, eyes wide. “No, no! I didn’t mean that!” He turns back to the mirror, giving his makeup a last onceover. “You did a great job, really. I don’t know how you made me look so good.”

Jaemin’s heart skips. Now he understands Jeno’s indignation when Jaemin deflects a compliment; it’s hard to hear someone you care about not love themselves as much as you do. “But you always look this good,” he mutters under his breath, “to me, at least.”

“What was that?”

“Oh, nothing! Just, ‘you’re welcome’ and, uh, ‘thanks,’” Jaemin supplies, panicking to cover for himself. _I just had to go and say that out loud?_ To avoid Jeno’s eyes, he turns to the chair he left his costume on and scoops it up, darting behind one of the closed-off changing areas. He slips out of the white and blue snow costume and switches his white tights for black ones that match the black and red accented outfit of the Spanish dancers. The tunic goes over his head easily, but then there’s the problem of the buttons.

When Jaemin first saw the costume while he, Hyunjin and Chaeryeong were getting fitted, he thought the buttons were just for show, a decoration sewn on to make the costume look better. He was surprised to hear from the costume designer, Yongsun, that the buttons were actually functional, and disappointed almost to the point of frustration to find that the buttons were not easy to do. Even now, curtained off from Jeno as the opening of 2nd Act music rings through the loudspeaker, the buttons won’t cooperate, each one deftly avoiding the buttonhole when Jaemin tries to slip it through.

Soon, he’s had enough of the buttons from hell and pulls back the curtain forcefully. Jeno turns to him at the noise, and tilts his head with a frown on his face. “Something wrong?”

“These fucking buttons are a pain in the ass,” Jaemin says, voice almost breaking in frustration. Those buttons are going to haunt his dreams tonight, along with all the ways opening night could go wrong tomorrow. He demonstrates his attempt to do one button, but like the last three-hundred times, he fails drastically. “Help?” is all he manages to say.

Jeno, the kind, pity-taking soul that he is, drops whatever hair products he’s holding and pads across the changing room to Jaemin. He takes Jaemin’s wrists and pulls his hands away from the evil buttons before he angers himself more. Then, Jeno’s fingers approach the lowest button and, by some magic or force of nature, he manages to slip it through the buttonhole. Jaemin gapes at him, awed and only a little bit resentful. Jeno catches sight of Jaemin’s expression and quirks a smile that makes Jaemin’s stomach positively flip before turning his attention back to the next button.

Right now, Jeno’s no closer to Jaemin than when Jaemin was doing his makeup, but this closeness makes Jaemin’s body fill with that warmth even more. Maybe it’s because he’s not in control of the situation, or the fact that both their eyes are open, or maybe it’s –

Jeno’s fingers brush Jaemin’s stomach as he does the third-lowest button. Granted, it’s through an undershirt, but it’s a pretty fucking thin undershirt, and Jaemin knows his reaction to the simple touch is magnified a tenfold just because it’s Jeno.

As Jeno’s fingers inch higher up his chest, Jaemin becomes more aware of how long he’s been holding his breath. Surely, the lack of oxygen flow is contributing to the thumping of his heart quickening in his ribcage, but Jeno has to be a factor in that, too. Really, Jeno’s just taken over the reason for most of his reactions by this point. The 90% of his life that is all reaction is completely Jeno-based.

Then, after a stifling few minutes, Jeno’s fingers leave Jaemin’s chest, but not before swiping over Jaemin’s collarbones. _That had to be an accident,_ Jaemin tells himself, quelling the gasp that dares to escape his mouth.

Jeno runs his hands down Jaemin’s arms, smoothing down the fabric of the costume. Jaemin dares to look up at him, and finds himself in that weird in between stage of guilt and warmth. Jeno’s gaze is deep and comforting, the way it always has been, but see, that’s exactly what made Jaemin fall for him. That’s why Jaemin can’t help but feel the burn of regret for catching feelings for his wonderful, supportive, loving best friend.

But despite all that, there’s still a small part – okay, maybe a big part – of Jaemin that wants to kiss him.

Jeno’s hands are still resting on Jaemin’s arms, making Jaemin bleed warmth like he never thought he could. He wonders if Jeno can feel it under his palms, if he can see the _want_ and the _longing_ and the poorly disguised _love_ in Jaemin’s eyes. He wonders if Jeno can feel all that, can see all that, and isn’t pulling away because he’s okay with it. Because maybe he feels all that too.

The thought is a small, microscopic burst of hope, but it’s enough for Jaemin. It’s enough for him and his deprived yet hopeful heart. It’s enough to scan Jeno’s eyes, attempting to communicate in the telepathic way their friends always tease them about, it’s enough to rotate his wrists to hold onto Jeno’s arms, and it’s enough to stand up a little straighter and lock his eyes onto Jeno’s lips.

Now, he hopes. Jeno is in front of him, ever so stable and present in this tender moment, and he can do nothing but _hope_ and –

Jaemin leans in.

Jeno backs away.

His hands fall away from Jaemin’s arms as Jaemin’s heart plummets off the side of a cliff, headed for a field of jagged rocks below.

He registers the shock in Jeno’s eyes as his heart gets impaled, shatters. The pieces are submerged under icy water, and then Jaemin feels nothing at all.

Something pricks at the corners of his eyes, and it’s not until he blinks and a teardrop streaks down his face that he realizes he’s crying. His hand curls into a fist and bangs on the door to the changing room, the other hand frantically jiggling the handle. He must sound so pitiful, sobs wracking his body as he leans on the door and the handle for support. He can’t imagine what Jeno sees, what Jeno thinks of him, but he finds he doesn’t want to know. He chokes out an “Open the door” in between bouts of crying. His fist hits the door softer this time, energy dwindling the longer he replays the memory of what he’s done, of what he’s ruined.

When the door finally opens, Jaemin nearly falls over. Donghyuck stands beside the door, one of his maniacal grins on his face, and Yangyang’s behind him, resting his head on Donghyuck’s shoulder. Their faces are bright and eager, but confusion flashes through their expressions as they take in Jaemin’s tear-streaked face.

Still, Donghyuck sounds all too excited when he asks, “Well? How’d it go?” Jaemin wonders for a moment _What was supposed to happen?_ but it’s a fleeting thought because all he really wants to do is run and hide. So, he pushes past Donghyuck and Yangyang, and tears down the hall. Maybe they call after him, but Jaemin thinks his vocal chords broke when his heart did, so he doesn’t answer.

~

It takes him a whole three minutes to find the bathrooms, only because he hadn’t really been paying attention during the tour, too busy talking and laughing with Jeno. His chest tightens at the thought, and he locks himself in the big stall at the end of the row. He can’t even sit down because there’s no lid on the toilet and he can’t take off his costume, so he just leans against the wall opposite the door.

A speaker in the bathroom trills with music, a little fainter than the one in the changing room, but it’s a glaring reminder the situation. Jaemin sits there long enough to hear the Opening of 2nd Act music dwindle away and the Spanish music start up. He waits patiently for his cue, and when the music goes on without him, he buries his face in his hands and tries not to think about Hyunjin and Chaeryeong executing their choreography flawlessly without him there beside them. When the song finishes and the next one flows through the speaker, Jaemin realizes he doesn’t need to be there for the show to go on.

He sniffles to himself in the bathroom stall as the low winds of the Arabian music sift through the speaker. He doesn’t bother tearing off some toilet paper for a tissue because he knows another bout of crying will surface soon. That only happens because he’s torturing himself by replaying the moment he fucked up his and Jeno’s friendship.

It’s like a knife, an icy cold knife lodged deep in his chest to think about it. To remember the pure shock in Jeno’s eyes, the way he took back his arms, the distance he put between himself and Jaemin. That’s what hurts the most, Jaemin thinks. Jeno’s stayed by his side through thick and thin, never one to shy away from physical closeness. And to think that it was Jaemin and his disgustingly hopeful heart that finally managed to drive a wedge between him.

He crosses his arms over his body and slides down the wall, resting his head in his knees. The tears come, soaking through his tights. He barely hears the bathroom door opening over his personal pity party.

The sigh comes first, then a gentle rap on the bathroom stall door. “Jaemin, is that you?”

Jaemin sniffs and lifts up his head. “Ten?” he chokes, his voice full of tears and snot and regret.

“Oh, thank god,” Ten breathes out. On the other side of the stall door, Jaemin watches Ten’s feet point away from him, and then the door creaks as Ten leans on it. “I checked the other two bathrooms before this one, but you weren’t there, and I was starting to thinkn you’d left the building. God, I’m so glad you’re here, Moonbyul would’ve killed me if I didn’t find you.”

“How’d you know to check the bathrooms?”

Ten lets out a gentle laugh. “It’s where I went before I danced my first principal role.” Jaemin considers that for a second: Ten, the company’s star soloist, hired right out of high school, handpicked by Moonbyul to cast and direct most of this year’s Nutcracker, gets stage fright?

“And I know you’re not performing a principal role, but the pressure can get to anyone. Anxiety’s not picky with its victims, is it,” Ten says, chuckling to himself. It’s obvious he’s trying to talk, to get something out of Jaemin, maybe even get him out of the bathroom. Jaemin feels a little bad, leaving Ten hanging like that, so he sniffs one more time and does his best to clear the gunk out of his throat.

“I – I don’t really get stage fright,” he offers.

“Okay, then,” Ten says. Jaemin sees his feet turn as he leans on the stall door with his shoulder. “Do you wanna tell me what you’re doing in the bathroom, if you’re not nervous?”

A vice-like grip tightens in Jaemin’s chest, squeezing his poor, cut-up heart to a pulp. He knows Ten means well, but his question just brings him back to reality, the reality he’ll have to face. “Uh, not really?” he says, but it comes out like a question and he knows Ten’s going to keep pestering him until he cracks.

He hears Ten take a deep breath, then blow it out. “Okay, okay, that’s fine,” he says. Then, “Is there anything I can do to get you to come out of there?”

Now Jaemin just feels bad, because Ten is clearly trying his best to keep the show from falling apart. He blinks away a few leftover tears and tries to push himself off the surprisingly clean bathroom floor. “Can I ask you a question?”

“If I answer, will you open this door?” Ten sure does know how to bargain.

“Yes,” Jaemin concedes, back pressed against the wall. His legs are shaky, and his palms are flat on the wall, doing their best to hold him up.

“Ask away, then.”

“Why’d you give it to me?” Jaemin blurts, the words rolling off his tongue so easily. He winces a little, his mind wandering to Jeno, how he always tells him that he’s enough, that he shouldn’t have to doubt or compare himself to anybody else. Now he’s thinking about Jeno, and his throat closes up a bit. He glances at the toilet bowl and wonders if he should throw up there or in the sink. _The toilet, right?_

“What did I give you, Jaemin?” Ten asks for clarification.

Jaemin squeezes his eyes shut and swallows, trying to open up his airway. “The understudy. For Clara,” he manages. “Why me?”

“You think you don’t deserve it?” Ten says, posing a question rather than a statement.

It catches Jaemin off-guard, and he sputters. “I – I dunno, just – you could’ve given that role to anybody, especially if you weren’t gonna cast it based on gender. I mean, Yeji’s absolutely fantastic, Hyejoo can pull off any style, Ryujin’s emotions and expressions are amazing, heck, even Donghyuck and Hyunjin can outdance me sometimes – ” Jaemin cuts himself off, but he’s said too much already. He bites his lip and sighs. “Just… why me?”

Ten’s quiet for a second, his breathing the only sound filling the bathroom. “Well, short answer is,” he starts, “I’m the casting director and Moonbyul said I could do what I want, so I did.” He pauses, maybe waiting for Jaemin to scoff at him. It doesn’t come, so Ten goes on. “Long answer is I saw you dance, after the audition. I peeked in during that fight scene rehearsal, the one before you got officially casted. I saw you dance, holding the Nutcracker and – this is gonna sound so stupid – but something just clicked, I guess. So many people get so caught up in their technique, they forget to have a good time dancing, which is weird ‘cause the only reason they made it this far is probably ‘cause they enjoyed dancing at some point, right?” Ten lets out a breath laden with a small bout of laughter. Jaemin can picture him shaking his head in disbelief, shoulder pressed into the stall door.

Ten makes a good point, though. Jaemin thinks back to the last rehearsal before the full-runs last weekend. He remembers running through the snow choreography, counting every measure before his entrances and exits. With his mind always on the music, trying to remember when the time signature switches from six-eight to four-four, and the rest of his brainpower going to extending energy through his arms and feet, he can’t remember enjoying the dance. Sure, the adrenaline rush filled his veins when the music became more exciting and the choreo more intense, but there wasn’t a moment where Jaemin looked out past the edge of the stage markers in the studio and felt like he was really _dancing._

Then, his mind plays the last fight scene rehearsal for him, the one right before he spent the night at Jeno’s. This memory becomes a movie, and Jaemin’s standing in the studio watching Jisung rake his imaginary claws at himself and the other mice scurrying towards him. The Jaemin in his memory holds the Nutcracker close, fending off Jisung and his mouse hoard before they get into a tug-of-war. The Nutcracker goes flying, and the mice come after him. Jaemin watches himself cower in the mouse cult circle, watches Jeno march out from the side, completely in character. The chimes ring through the studio, the gunshot sounds boldly, and when memory-Jaemin breaks out of the circle, emotions run rampant in the studio. There’s desperation and fear and confusion and comfort and love and Jaemin gets blasted with the force of it, blinking himself back to the bathroom stall he’s been crying in for the past ten minutes.

Ten’s voice locks Jaemin back into the present. “Anyway, what I was trying to say is, I saw you, and I knew that something about it felt right. So, when Moonbyul came after my ass telling me to cast understudies, the first one I cast was Clara’s.”

“But I’m just the understudy,” Jaemin spits out. “It’s not like I’m gonna change the production for the better with whatever magical feeling you had just because I learned the choreo. Heejin’s still gonna perform it, do it better than I could, and then this whole thing’ll be over.”

“Jaemin, come on,” Ten presses, “you should know at your level that understudying isn’t about going in for the first cast, it’s about the experience. It’s about being in the studio and learning from other people. Don’t tell me you haven’t learned something from being in rehearsal as an understudy these past few months.”

It hits harder than it should, but maybe that’s just because Jaemin’s so worn-down, so tired, so raw. All the weeks of extra rehearsals for understudying have been piling up for a while, and now the weight is finally enough to crush him. He wonders if all that was worth it, if something came of this exhaustion, this pain.

His mind, dead on its metaphorical feet, wanders to the time Heejin told him about her auditions while he taught her Clara’s choreography. His heart ached for her the longer she gushed about training for her auditions. A small part of the ache was jealousy, because she had her future figured out already, but the bigger part of it was pride. He was proud of his friend, and it was then he’d stopped resenting her for making him sub-in during rehearsal.

He wonders if this is what Jeno was talking about, what, two weeks ago? He said something about how Jaemin would do anything for their friends. ‘Be their cheerleader,’ were Jeno’s words. Because his pride outweighs his jealousy, because he has too much love to give, Jaemin can’t take any kind words or uplifting praise in return. He doesn’t expect it from anyone, and maybe that’s why it’s such a shock when a compliment finds its way to him.

But Jeno, Jeno was the one that told him he’s enough as he is. Jeno told him that he’ll always be there to believe in him, and that their friends will too. Jeno told him all that, the same Jeno that smiles softly at him and tries to make him laugh and talks to him about movie theories and dance videos. The same Jeno that kneeled by his side and ran his fingers through Jaemin’s hair to comfort him and leaned his head on Jaemin’s shoulder with a blanket draped over the two of them.

 _Jeno._ While he took on the responsibility of Clara’s understudy, Jaemin fell in love with Jeno. The fall might’ve been a long time coming, but the realization had shaken Jaemin to his core. It made him flighty around his best friend, it made heat rise to his cheeks and warmth bubble in the pit of his stomach.

 _Jeno._ Jaemin’s chest aches as the name crosses his mind, but he _yearns_ for him. He’ll stay away, he respects Jeno and their friendship too much to do anything but that. But even rejection won’t stop his heart from beating for someone who dropped it like they were burned the moment they came in contact.

A loud sigh comes from the other side of the stall door. “Jaemin, I’m sorry,” Ten says. He sounds desperate, Jaemin doesn’t know why. It’s just him Ten’s trying to coax out of the bathroom, why’s he trying so hard for him? “I went too far, that was too harsh of me. Please, just – ” Ten’s voice catches and he breathes deeply. “Please unlock the door, Jaemin. I’m really worried about you, and I’m sure I’m not the only one.”

Hearing that Ten’s worried about him makes Jaemin react almost the same way he would for a compliment – from anyone other than Jeno, that is. The black curl wraps around his throat, and he wants nothing more than to brush off Ten’s words, deny the attention, but it’s not like he can tell Ten that he shouldn’t worry. He can’t control how Ten feels about him, a pathetic dancer crying in the bathroom. So, to prove to Ten he shouldn’t have to worry, Jaemin drags his feet to the door, slides back the lock, and pulls it open. Ten nearly falls into the stall, but he catches himself before faceplanting.

“Okay, here I am,” Jaemin says, pulling a strained smile across his face. Ten looks up at him, and the worry lines on his face melt, the corners of his eyes softening at the tear-stained boy in front of him. He opens his mouth, but Jaemin cuts him off. “I won’t – I’m not going to talk about it. Just – please don’t make me.”

Ten’s mouth forms a thin line as he presses his lips together. There’s a war going on behind his eyes as he looks Jaemin up and down, but he eventually steps away from the door to let Jaemin pass by. “Alright then,” he resigns, “but we’d better head back. If you let me fix your makeup, I think you’ll be able to do finale. However,” he stops, hand on the door to the bathroom, “Moonbyul is gonna have to run Spanish again. You think you can pull through for that?” Ten eyes him cautiously, the concern coming back full force.

Jaemin swallows. His throat is scratchy, and the dried tears on his face make it hard to move. His costume is rumpled and his makeup is ruined, his feet hurt and his back is sore from being hunched over. His heart is in so many pieces that if he tried to pick them all up, they’d fall through his fingers, and he’s just fucked up the best friendship he’s ever had.

Still, he gives Ten a curt nod and says, “I’ll be fine,” but he’s speaking more to himself than anyone else.

Ten touches up his makeup in the cordoned-off men’s section of the company members’ changing room. Jaemin sees Johnny, the company member playing Herr Drosselmeyer, approach from out of the corner of his eye, but Ten waves him away. The two company members gaze at each other, meaning present in each of their eyes. Ten seems to win the nonverbal argument, so Johnny leaves him to reapply Jaemin’s eyeliner in peace.

“What was that about?” Jaemin asks, eyes closed. The tip of the eyeliner applicator presses down on his eyelid, and he tries not to wince.

Ten huffs, and his grip on Jaemin’s jaw tenses ever so slightly. “Nothing, just – ” he pauses, maybe deciding if it’s worth saying what comes next. “He wouldn’t understand, is all. He’d try to help, that’s who he is, but it wouldn’t work because he’s just as much of a dumbass as yours.”

Jaemin’s eyebrows furrow. _Mine? What’s mine that’s a dumbass?_ Maybe Ten knows more about his situation than he lets on, but whatever he just said doesn’t resonate with Jaemin. The tip of the applicator leaves his eyelid, and he opens his eyes slowly. As he adjusts to the light, he sees Ten screwing on the cap with a fair amount of ferocity, lips pursed and eyes narrowed.

Ten must sense Jaemin’s stare because he sets down the eyeliner and turns back to Jaemin with a much more neutral expression. “It’s nothing you’ve gotta be worried about, okay? Now, I hear the _pas de deux_ ending, so you better get into the wings.” Ten shoos him out of the changing room, and Jaemin falls into line behind Chaeryeong and Hyunjin before their cue for the finale. Chaeryeong shoots him a worried glance over her shoulder, and Hyunjin peeks around her with his eyebrows pressed together. Jaemin waves them off and turns them around to face the stage. They have questions, but they won’t be getting answers.

He doesn’t let himself watch Jeno and Heejin lead the finale theme step, and he doesn’t let himself mess up, either.

Inevitably, Moonbyul makes them stay to run Spanish again. When she finally releases them, Jeno’s already gone home. _Good,_ Jaemin thinks as he shoves his things haphazardly into his dance bag. He leaves hurriedly, nearly colliding with the stage crew member in charge of sets, Lucas, he remembers faintly. Lucas calls out after him, but it turns to white noise before it makes it to Jaemin’s ears.

He huddles outside the building of the performance hall for his mom to come pick him up. _Hope is a silly thing,_ he thinks as he watches a few passerby walk under the glow of a streetlight across the plaza. They’re illuminated for seconds under the yellow-orange light before disappearing into the darkness again. He kicks a rock, and it bounces on the pavement into the street excitedly. It stops for a second, then a car tire rolls over it, obliterating it into the next dimension.

 _It’s a stupid thing too,_ Jaemin realizes. His mom’s car pulls into the loading zone, and Jaemin finds himself wishing he were the rock.

~

Hope plants its roots too easily in someone like Jaemin. It happens so often he barely realizes it.

It took hold as he waited outside the movie theater with two tickets freshly purchased, but that hope turned to stone in his blood when his partner never showed up.

Hope dug beneath his skin when he went home that same night, tear tracks dried on his face, and spent the night being comforted by ice cream and Marvel movies and Jeno.

That hope turned his bones into lead when Jeno introduced his girlfriend to their friends after the end-of-year showcase in sophomore year.

It clawed its way to his heart when he went to Pride with his friends and Jeno let Donghyuck paint his face with blue and pink and purple.

But that hope became sharp, prickly, when Jeno looked at him and told him, “I couldn’t ask for a better best friend.”

Hope thrives on someone like Jaemin, but it makes it so easy for him to get hurt. Expectations are made to be broken, to be exceeded, but most of Jaemin’s just end up falling short.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ballet vocab in this chapter:  
> pas de deux - means 'dance for two.' a duet done by principal dancers in a ballet, for example, in the Nutcracker there's a grand pas de deux at the end of the 2nd act with the Sugar Plum Fairy and her Cavalier (i had clara+prince do the grand pas for this production because the dancers are so advanced and for plot reasons heh), and there's a pas de deux before the snow scene starts when clara+prince wake up and find themselves in the snow forest (i excluded that pas from this iteration of the Nutcracker to keep it short and sweet). 
> 
> well. that was a lot. i'm sorry for putting jaemin through the ringer, but he's a strong boi, he'll make it through this i have faith. as for jeno... he'll have some explaining to do in later chapters, won't he. anyway, this is all yanghyuck's fault, but we can't blame them cause they're too cute (even though they are michievious). hopefully i didn't completely rip your soul out with this chapter so that you're able to leave a comment/kudo (much appreciated!). and with that, i hope you all have a magnificent day/night wherever you are!


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